To Reach for Victory
by Hahukum Konn
Summary: In District Two, Aurelius Decker, like other Career tributes, is taught one thing: how to win at the Hunger Games. But will he be able to achieve victory? Note: both het and slash.
1. Chapter 1

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

For those of you reading this for the first time (or re-reading it) I'd like to give a big shout-out to **caisha702**, who has helped me figure out some things about the District Two I've created, and whose District Two people in her fanfic were as complex and varied as Cashmere.

* * *

"Good work, Aurelius. Twenty-eight minutes for ten kilometers," barks Lyme, the trainer for the runners. She scribbles on a clipboard. "You can have a few minutes to rest."

I jog off the track and come to a halt near her, bending over to rest my hands on my knees as I catch my breath. I've just finished the second round of my required training laps and am allowed another break. Lyme'll tell me when I can hit the showers.

The sun's shining down, and there's only a couple of tiny clouds in the sky. I look up, sweat dripping off my forehead, to see some of my fellow trainees running around the oval, getting either comments of "_Run faster!_" or "_Keep it up!_" depending on how Lyme thinks they're doing. This morning it's the sixteen-year-olds who have the track. This afternoon, the seventeen-year-olds will do their races.

The official name of this place is the Comprehensive Education Center, but nobody's fooled. The real purpose is to take selected boys and girls and train them for all they're worth for the Games. People like me: Career tributes.

My father's a Peacekeeper, and he was lucky to draw a job here in District Two instead of having to spend years in another district away from my mother, who coaches the rope-climbing trainees. And in case you were wondering, she just goes harder on me than anyone else when I practice.

Way back when I was thirteen, my hands slipped and I fell off the rope. After I hit the floor, she grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and roared, "Get back up there, you lazy zonkhead!"

I should explain that drug addiction, while it's mainly a Capitol thing, is not unknown here in Two. Some Peacekeepers come out from the Capitol for training, and I've overheard them making jokes about their friends back in the Capitol who get strung out – zonked – on designer drugs illicitly made by someone who knows someone somewhere. And there's always the occasional story of someone binging on morphling.

I still don't know why some things set me off. But being compared to a drug addict is one of them. Maybe I saw a morphling addict when I was very young, or something.

But anyway, as the story goes, I _zoomed_ up that rope, touched the ceiling, and then came down so fast I had rope burns on my knees and hands. I have to believe what I'm told about that, because my vision just exploded in this haze of red, and I was so _angry_. All I remember is standing in front of my mom afterwards, my hands throbbing in pain and noticing she looked slightly taken aback.

My cousin Janus Decker – we've got the same last name, actually – told me my jaw had set and I had this frightening _glare_ in my eyes. He had said he seriously thought I was going to murder my mother after I raced up and down the rope.

It didn't stop Mom from going hard on me, but she never called me a drug addict again.

Since I turned twelve years old, my whole life has been the CEC, which is situated near the central village which also has the town square. The central stone quarry mountain looms over us. It represents what we Careers are supposed to be: solid and unyielding.

My circle of acquaintances and friends are my fellow would-be tributes. We get some education in reading, math, stuff like that, but the majority of what we do is euphemistically termed "Physical Education". We get one day off a week, but otherwise our schedules are pretty full.

On training/schooling days, we do something different every morning and afternoon. Today, for example, it's running laps, then weight training in the afternoon. Tomorrow it'll be rope climbing, then being taught some basic knowledge about our District, such as the weapons we make, or watching old Hunger Games, evaluating strategy and tactics. Then the day after tomorrow, it'll be knife throwing and sparring with and without weapons. The other days are similarly aimed at making us unstoppable machines.

To not volunteer at the Reaping means being forced to do double training for a week after the Hunger Games end. Usually you're expected to volunteer if the person being reaped isn't a Career tribute or if the person's the same age as you. Brutus, one of the other Victors who keeps his hand in teaching at the CEC, made a huge deal about it when explaining that past Victors get some choice over whether to accept a volunteer or not.

And yes, that happened to me once. When I was fourteen, my cousin Janus was reaped for the fifty-eighth Hunger Games. Every ounce of my training had prepared me to leap out and be the first to bellow, "I volunteer!"

And yet…

I froze.

The words stuck in my throat. I think I was just too shocked to realize that Reapings didn't just take someone from the District, they could take someone close to you.

Luckily, or so I had thought, a dozen people rushed to volunteer and a tall eighteen-year-old named Rufus Gladius was accepted in Janus's place.

But Brutus had noticed my slight hesitation.

After the Reaping was over, he beckoned me and a bunch of other Careers over to the CEC. I was forced to stand in the center of the circle they made around me as he berated and humiliated me in front of everybody else. Being told you're worth less than a District Twelve coal miner… not good. I won't even discuss the other unflattering comparisons.

I'm sure more than one person has hesitated at the Reaping, but Brutus only has to make an example of one person every year to drive the point home.

Rufus didn't win that year anyway. That honor went to someone from District One, who, shortly after, got invited up to the Capitol every couple of months to hang off some rich guy's arm. She was pretty stacked, if you know what I mean, so I guess they liked her at the Capitol enough to let her go there frequently.

The only Career who didn't laugh at me or ignore me the week I did double training was a guy named Tarsus Silva. He'd spot me during the weight training. He'd even do the doubles right along with me, though it meant both he and I were left staggering, barely conscious, to the showers after the long hours were over and the coaches would finally let me go.

I've always appreciated what Tarsus did for me, because on the last day of double training that jackass (and it seems there's always one in every age group) Caius came up to me after I had finished a sparring session with Tarsus. The coach had gone for a break, and the replacement hadn't come yet.

I had just finished the hand-to-hand combat and we were going to change into wrestling outfits when Caius grabbed my shoulder, flung me around and said, "If you're too afraid to volunteer maybe you're too afraid to fight me, huh?"

I guess being called a coward is another one of my anger trip points, because against all common sense I gritted my teeth, shoved him, and said, "Fuck you, Caius. You wanna fight?"

Before you could say "go", Caius and I were throwing fists everywhere, not even close to following the rules. I punched, I kicked, I bit, I scratched. We reached a stalemate after Caius rolled on top of me, letting me grip his hair with both hands. I yanked viciously, pulling his head up as high as I could force it. Then Caius gripped my hair, knowing the contest of pain would end with a winner eventually.

Tarsus doesn't quite look like he could throw another guy around with ease, but that day, he grabbed Caius by the back of his uniform, _yanked_ so hard they both seemed to fly away from me, then walloped him with a punch to the jaw.

I just lay there, stunned by what I'd seen and trying to assess my injuries. I had gotten a bloody nose, for sure, and I think my eye was going to get a nice shiner. My ribs protested, but none were broken. My thigh hurt from Caius's vicious kick that hobbled me and had let him throw himself on top of me to fight at close range.

I'd been stupid. Fighting like that in training could have gotten me another week of doubles, and it was of little satisfaction to know Caius would have also gotten a week of doubles too, if he hadn't sneaked off to the bathrooms, that bastard.

Well, Tarsus got me out of it. When the replacement sparring coach came out and asked what had been going on, Tarsus just smiled innocently and said, "Sorry, sir. I got a little overenthusiastic during sparring," then shot me a glare. "He insulted my cousin."

I almost laughed and gave it away. That glare was so fake anyone could have seen through it!

But the coach accepted it and sent us off to go and wrestle. Of course, Tarsus managed to pin me each time, teasingly asking me if I'd had enough yet.

But I had my pride and said no.

I paid for that the next day, our day off. My entire body felt like it was one big throbbing bruise. When Tarsus came over wondering how I was doing, I begged him to massage my muscles so I could move at all.

That pretty much cemented our friendship, and now, at sixteen, it feels like we've always been friends.

We're kind of more than friends too, but we don't talk much about it. Everybody knows Careers work off a little tension with each other. But nobody'll ever say it out loud. Even my parents ignore it when Tarsus sleeps over. His parents do the same when I'm at his place.

I guess it has to be this way or frankly, those of us at the CEC would go nuts and start killing each other after hitting puberty and having all that sexual tension.

It started about six months after we started hanging out regularly after training sessions, and ever since then I've sometimes wondered if guys all kiss as well as Tarsus does, never mind the rest of what we've gotten up to. I'm pretty sure I like girls too, but it feels to me a bit like I'd be turning my back on my friend if I did anything with one of the girl Careers. I get the feeling he wouldn't mind, though. He's more easygoing than I am about most things.

My thoughts come back to the present as Tarsus's hand lands on my shoulder, his familiar strong grip making me smile. His hand falls to his side as I stand up and stretch to work the kinks out of my back. I say, "How'd you do on the ten-kilo?"

He grimaces. 'Not my best. Thirty-one minutes." He's breathing heavily, and as he wipes his face with his shirt I fleetingly wish he'd take it off so I could see his chest. We're both built pretty similarly with muscles pretty much everywhere, although he's got brown hair and brown eyes and I have blond hair and blue eyes.

Lyme breaks in, her finger pointed firmly at Tarsus. "And remember that, kid. You did better on your evaluations a month ago. Reaping's tomorrow and you all had better be at the top of your game. Both of you, do another five for me."

Lyme holds up a second timer, the one she uses for races. I lift my finger, grab an unopened bottle of water and gulp half of it down, then hand it to Tarsus, who gulps the rest down and tosses the empty bottle on the grass. We stand next to each other at the white start line.

"Three! Two! One! _Go!_"

We tear off pell-mell from the start line, our competitive instincts coming to the fore. The familiar rhythm of breathing steadily as I run comes to me automatically, and I focus on running faster than my friend. Lyme's smart. She spots friendships between Careers and uses that to her advantage, making us do impromptu races like this to keep ourselves in peak condition.

Tarsus bops my shoulder. I smirk, saying, "Trying to throw me off my game isn't gonna work, buddy. I'll still win."

He laughs. "I'll win, Aurelius. You watch."

We don't say anything to each other after that. It's all about focus, and we're old enough to know we get more done with action than words. I remember at twelve and thirteen, it was all about mouthing off to each other in races until Lyme got annoyed enough to tell us all to shut up and race.

We stay neck and neck all the way, with only the occasional spurt ahead any evidence that we're going all-out to outrace each other.

After the five-kilo we've just run, Tarsus and I are breathing heavily again, and sweat's pouring off me. Lyme clicks the timer, and scribbles again. She says without looking at us, "Dead heat at fourteen minutes twenty seconds for you both. Go. Hit the showers."

As we walk back, Tarsus leans in close and says, "Lucky me. Lyme must be in a good mood today if she let us off that quickly."

I reply, "Yeah, you redeemed yourself, huh?"

He chuckles as we head off to the showers and a break for a small lunch. Diet's tightly controlled at the CEC. There's still weight training in the afternoon and I want to break my previous bench press record.

During the weight training, I remember one of Tarsus's few weak points just after I've finished my own bench pressing, topping out at one hundred and ten kilograms.

Just like I seem to be thin-skinned about being called a drug addict, for some reason he _really_ doesn't like being called a girl. Nobody would mistake him for one, honestly. But Drusus, one of the other guys helping me get the weights onto the bench press bar, makes the mistake of saying, "I bet my _girlfriend_ could lift more than this."

Tarsus is off the bench in an instant, his hands gripping Drusus's shirt. His face is frozen in a mask of anger. "Say that again," he growls.

Drusus puts his hands up, pushing back at Tarsus, and says, "Hey! Take it easy, huh? Just joking, okay?"

Tarsus seems to come back to himself, lets go of Drusus and brusquely says, "Sorry. Now let's go."

He gets back under the bench press bar, and closes his eyes to re-center himself as he gets ready to lift eighty kilograms. Drusus looks at me with a "what the _hell?_" expression, and I just shake my head, giving the "cool it" gesture. I don't need Tarsus being provoked into a fight the day before the Reaping.

Drusus got off lightly. When I called Tarsus a girl for running too slow way back when we had just started hanging out together, his jaw set, and I got this _look_ from him on the track. When we got to the showers, he snarled, "Don't ever call me that again!"

Then he shoved me and we started fighting; he ended up slamming my head into the wall, then aiming a punch to my stomach that gave me dry heaves. We were a little wary around each other for a few hours after that, but after I apologized to him it seemed to set him at ease.

All of us seem to have little things like that which just set us off. But we learn, and we remember to work around them. I think it helps that fighting outside the rules gets punished pretty consistently. We don't need injured and angry Careers in the CEC.

That night, I'm at Tarsus's place. Luckily, both he and I live in the main village.

His dad works in the gun factory and his mom puts bullets into boxes after checking that none of them are duds. They're both on night shift, which really sucks since they'll have to be awake tomorrow for the Reaping.

I'm actually not quite sure why they suddenly went to double shifts. There's a vague rumor that the loggers in District Seven aren't happy about their wages, but given that it came from a Peacekeeper friend of my dad's who's known for dipping in the whiskey a bit more than he should, I'm not going to take that too seriously.

For us, it means Tarsus and I get the place to ourselves. As soon as we're in the house, he drags me to his room, shuts the door, and whips his shirt off. I follow suit and not long after, we're in his bed.

/\/\/\

After showering and cleaning up, I'm seated on the bed next to Tarsus. There was something about our lovemaking, I guess you could call it, that seemed unusually intense tonight. There's something about his mood – something _final_ about it all.

"Aurelius?"

It's not often we hold hands like I see my parents do when they've got a couple of minutes alone with each other. It seems kind of mushy, and maybe I could be like that with Tarsus one day, but not until after we're safely out of the danger of Reapings. It hangs over us, even as we're primed to volunteer to be in the Games. Yes, we're destined to win, but nobody wants to be the one who loses and comes back in a box.

But tonight, Tarsus takes my hand and holds it in both his own. His fingers, like mine, have calluses from rope-climbing and sparring with weapons in combat. It's nice to feel the warmth from his hands.

I realize I haven't responded. I reply, "Yeah, what is it?"

Tarsus looks me directly in the eye. He's got a solemn expression on his face. "It's about tomorrow. Look, there's a chance we'll get Reaped, right?"

I scoff, "So what? Someone'll volunteer. In fact, it's more likely that someone will volunteer than not, so chances are higher you'll get out of it."

His hand clenches, and I can feel the strength in his grip. "I'm not saying this real well. Just… this could be our last night. One way or another. I could get Reaped. You could get Reaped. I could volunteer and be accepted. You could volunteer and be accepted."

I clench his hand, trying to reassure him. "And what are we? We're _Careers._ Whichever one of us comes back, we _will_ come back, damn it. And whatever it takes, we'll both get to live in a Victor's Mansion. Right?"

Tarsus's gaze falls. He mumbles, "I hope you're right."

He lets go of my hand and flops back on the bed.

I nudge his knee. "C'mon. I know how to take our minds off this."

He laughs and says, "Oh, so I got dressed and changed my bedsheets for nothing?"

I roll my eyes. "You need to relax. We're more likely to be chosen as volunteers when we're eighteen, and that's _ages_ away, man."

Tarsus sits up and sighs. "I wish I had your optimism, Aurelius, but something bad is gonna happen tomorrow. I just _feel_ it."

I try to make light of it. "How 'bout feeling something else, huh?"

He shoves me. "You got a one-track mind, asshole." But he's smiling again.

I stand up and reach out for his hand. "Bathrooms have other uses besides showers. Let's go."

* * *

Author Note: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work on this! (Applause)


	2. Chapter 2

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

The next morning, I wake up in Tarsus's bed. He's spooned in behind me, and it feels nice having his arms wrapped around me like this. My legs are entwined with his.

Then it sinks in. Today is Reaping Day.

I put that out of my mind as I snuggle in for a couple more minutes.

Unfortunately, a single bang on the door brings that to an end, as his mother says, "Wake up, Tarsus! And I know you're in there too, Aurelius. Your parents want you home before the Reaping!"

Shit. There goes my plan for one more round with Tarsus.

Maybe it's for the best. As ridiculous as it seems, what if he's right about something happening during the Reaping?

I grudgingly slip out from his embrace. He rubs the blankets, mumbling, "'relius? Y'there?"

I laugh and shake his shoulder. "Hey, big guy. Rise and shine!"

Tarsus's eyes open and he whines, "Aw _man_, I was having such a nice dream about you!"

"What was it, anyway?"

He frowns, trying to remember. As he yawns, he says, "Don't remember. It was just nice."

"Hey. My parents want me home before the Reaping starts at two. Meetcha there, okay? I'll try to ditch Janus."

It's not that Janus and I don't get along. We're cousins, after all. But we're just not that close. A big part of it is that he washed out of Career training when he was only thirteen. The CEC let him go after he seriously blew his unarmed combat evaluations, and he told me later he had some kind of coordination problem that kept him from putting his fighting moves together well. Careers tend to hang out with each other, so Janus gradually moved out of my social circle. And to be honest, I'd rather hang out with my more-than-friend and training partner.

Tarsus gets out of bed and is preparing to take a shower. I get my clothes on and get ready to leave. I can just shower at my parents' place.

As I put my hand on the doorknob to leave the room, Tarsus beckons me over. He grabs the back of my neck to pull me closer, and kisses me deeply. I put my hand on his chest to steady myself, and I can feel his heart beating a bit faster than usual.

After a few more moments, he lets go of me and puts his hand on my chest. He says, "I'll see you at the Reaping. Good luck, okay?"

"Yeah, you too." I poke him in the chest and say, "Hey. Be punctual."

I get a poke in return and he replies, "Same to you. Get outta here. Your parents'll get upset if you stick around too much longer."

As I leave the house, I wave a cursory good-bye to Tarsus's parents and walk down the street to my parents' place. Most people live in one-floor houses with gabled roofs. The streets are paved, and a fair number of the luckier ones in Two have cars. We don't, but then a Peacekeeper can't afford to get out of shape, and a CEC coach certainly can't. We can use the trains that go between the villages if we have to, though I've almost never had to go to the other villages.

After about a fifteen-minute walk, I'm back home, and my parents are just setting out the plates for breakfast. I say, "Hi. I was—"

My father brusquely replies, "We know. Your friend Tarsus. I ran into his parents after coming off patrol. Get cleaned up and dress in a proper outfit."

Mom briefly waves at me. I wave back and rush to my room. After peeling off my clothes from yesterday, I go through my morning ritual, remembering to shave as well.

After I finish shaving, I look at myself in the mirror, thinking for a moment like a Capitol citizen. Question: _Would this guy be worth sponsoring?_

My face is angular, not broad, which seems to sort of fit the Capitol's beauty standard. My hands and fingers are maybe a bit bigger than some other peoples', but at least they make me look like I'm a tribute who can kill anything he sees. I'm quick on my feet, too.

Being quick and being able to fight anyone: that's the thing that makes Tarsus and me good sparring partners. Whatever we may be, in the CEC when we're opposite each other, we're enemies. The person who spots you in weight training can be your opponent somewhere else. Friends who don't go all out against each other get forced to fight one another until they learn this lesson.

We voluntarily spar at least once a sparring day, and we've done damage to each other. I've lost count of the bruises we've given each other. Once, I dislocated Tarsus's shoulder in unarmed combat, and in swordfighting, he gave me a wicked cut along my right arm. Brutus liked seeing the scar that left. It's about eight centimeters going from my elbow to about a third of the way down my lower arm.

If there was a factory for tributes I suspect my body would probably have been one of the choices. I'm not quite as bulky as some of the past tributes, but I've heard rumors about why some tributes and not others seem almost disproportionately sized for their age. If the rumors are true I'm glad I didn't go that route. Those side effects seem kind of unpleasant.

But all in all, I like the impression I give. So, yeah, I could get sponsors. But how many?

Mentally turning away from those thoughts, I shrug. I'm not even sure what I'll do after I turn nineteen. Probably learn guns and be a Peacekeeper somewhere. I really don't want to work in the stone quarries. It's backbreaking work and it can take a toll even on the strongest of us who leave the CEC.

Anyway, breakfast calls. I get dressed in my best shirt, a clean white long-sleeved one with buttons up the front, and my one good pair of pants which are black slacks. My shirt and pants feel strange against my skin; usually I wear T-shirts and shorts at training.

After that, I go to the kitchen and eat in silence. It's one egg and a tiny piece of ham. It's a small luxury my mom has allowed me, since she usually follows the CEC's controlled diet for Careers rigidly. Normally breakfast is oatmeal with skim milk she makes from a powder. I'm fortunate. I've heard people in some Districts don't even get one meal a day, if Dad's Peacekeeper friends back from their tour of duty are any guide.

My father's apparently just choosing to totally ignore what I got up to last night, which is fine with me. I think I could probably kiss Tarsus in front of Mom, though, and she'd just shrug and say, "He can fight, so you two should be able to get along."

Now that I've finished breakfast, I should probably drink some coffee even if I don't really like it. Our mayor's got a tendency to drone on when we just want to see whose names come out of the big glass Reaping balls. I look at Mom, who allows me one cup. She's mixed some of the cheap crap you can get in the store with some special Capitol stuff, and the combination takes some of the edge off the aftertaste. I think she's allowed to get Capitol coffee because she trains us.

But I definitely feel wide awake now.

I make my excuses and say I'm going to visit Janus. Dad says, "See you at the square, then." Mom nods at me and gestures to get moving.

Janus also lives in the main village, near the town square, and I can see the television crews setting up in the distance. Uncle Thasius is home, and I shake hands with him and give Janus a brief hug. He's happy I'm there. I guess he wants to show off his latest toys.

On the long bench along one side of his room I see he's field-stripped an older-model rifle used about ten years ago before it got replaced by the new one. He shows me a few paper targets, all with neat little holes in the center. I whistle in appreciation. "Janus, how far away are you from these when you shoot?"

He shrugs. "Couple hundred meters, maybe?"

My eyes widen. "Shit, you're _good_. We don't really do guns at the CEC 'cause tributes would be deadly with 'em. I mean, we're taught something about how they get made, but no practicing with them. The closest is archery. My best has been a hundred percent at, like, five meters."

Janus smirks as he reassembles the rifle fluidly, each piece locking into place as though he worked at the factory that made it. "Five versus two hundred, Aurelius. You'd be dead before you even saw me."

"Not arguing with _that_."

"Hey, why don't you come over more often, anyway?" Janus has blond hair, like me, but his eyes are brown. I can see the hurt look in them, though he's trying to hide it from me.

Damn it, what am I supposed to do now? It's Reaping Day! We don't have _time_ for a big long yadda-yadda bring-the-family-closer chat. It's mostly my fault anyway, for pulling away from him.

Not voicing any of these thoughts, I mutter, "Stuff. Y'know."

He snickers. "Yeah, like Tarsus stuffing your ass. Or do you stuff his? I've heard things. Your dad talks to mine, you know."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Hey. Shut the fuck up, okay? You even get a girlfriend yet? Or boyfriend?"

"Actually, yeah. I _did_ get a girlfriend," says Janus nonchalantly. "Her name's Callia. She's a year younger than me."

"Never seen her at the CEC."

"'Course you wouldn't. I go to the Academy, same as her," retorts Janus.

Everybody goes to the Academy (which has a much fancier name, but I can never remember it) until they're twelve. Then the lucky ones (like me) get picked out to go to the CEC. The rest stay to get a general education up to the age of sixteen or seventeen. People from there go to work in the quarries, or train as Peacekeepers. Some people, like Tarsus's parents, are lucky enough to get jobs in the factories that make all kinds of weapons.

Janus is allowed to have the rifle he's got since he's signed up for Peacekeeper training. He's apparently already impressed them with his marksmanship, and he thinks he can get special training to be a sniper; that's someone who can shoot at very long range, very accurately.

I'm honestly happy that he knows what he wants to do. I just wish I knew the same. My thoughts drift back to Janus and his family.

I never knew my aunt. It's rare in District Two, but some women still die giving birth and my aunt was one of them. Uncle Thasius never remarried, but he's seen women off and on over the years. Never settled down though.

For some reason, thinking about missing a family member makes me blurt, "I wanted to volunteer for you at your Reaping, you know."

Janus doesn't look impressed. "Not from where I'm standing you didn't. I heard about what Brutus said, you know."

I point menacingly and bark, "Do not continue that sentence if you know what's good for you."

When he's kept his mouth shut for a few seconds, I continue. "I _wanted_ to volunteer, damn it. You have no idea, no _fucking_ idea how much I've kicked myself for that. Do you know I was humiliated in front of everybody I knew in my age group in training? You know they made me do double rounds of training for a week after the Games ended?"

I'm so angry now I want to hit something. _Anything._ But I don't want to hit Janus, so I settle for an incoherent growl as I smash my fist into his bed, hearing the springs creak in protest.

Janus is eyeing me warily. This is probably the first time he's seen the way we Careers let out aggression. He runs his hand through his hair and says, "I–I'm sorry. I didn't know it really did mean that much to you."

I sigh. "I just don't like being reminded of what Brutus said, okay?"

Nervously, he changes the subject. "Look, uh, you wanna go check out who they might send from the Capitol this year?"

I chuckle. "More like you want to check out Callia, right?"

"Shut _up_. She's pretty, that's all." Janus blushes a bit. "But yeah, I want to be near her before they split us up into age groups."

"Okay, let's go. Where's Uncle Thasius?"

"Dad should be just outside. He likes to sit on the porch before we go to the Reaping."

Janus fidgets nervously and doesn't open the bedroom door, though.

He blurts, "Are you all like that? Machines?"

Softly, I say, "Janus, listen to me. People like me are chosen so you won't have to ever turn yourself off to fight. Feel sorry for the people we meet in the Arena, not for us Careers."

I show the scar on my right arm. "See this? Tarsus did that to me during training when we were swordfighting. At the moment he did that, he wasn't looking at Aurelius his friend. He was looking at an enemy."

"But what did you do to hi—"

"We were training with flails and I got him across the back. He's still got a small scar from where it cut the skin open. Another time, I dislocated his shoulder."

Janus's eyes are wide. "I've never been so glad I washed out of training after evals. We'd eventually have hurt each other, wouldn't we?"

I shrug. "Price of being a Career," I point out.

His hand trembles as he reaches for my shoulder. He looks like he wants to say something, but he just clasps my shoulder, then pats my back. It seems to be more for him than for me, as though he's reassuring himself I still have a heart that beats and flesh that stays warm.

Just outside the front door, I notice throngs of people migrating to the town square, and Uncle Thasius grunts as he stands up. He's got a twinge of something called sciatica, something the Capitol could cure immediately but which would cost him a lot of money to get treated.

But we live to serve the Capitol, and I muse on that no more.

We head to the Reaping ceremonies.

Janus breaks off when he sees his girlfriend. Callia looks pretty nice. She's almost his height and has black hair. Soon after, Uncle Thasius and I meet my parents, and I rush ahead to find Tarsus.

I catch up with him at the town square, where the Justice Building is located. One thing that always amazes me is how a square that doesn't really seem that large can squeeze tens of thousands into it, if needed. We go into the roped-off area for the sixteen-year-olds. I spot Drusus and stand so I'm between him and Tarsus. He bumps shoulders with me and leans in to say, "Thanks."

I shrug. It's no problem. Tarsus doesn't hold grudges, but you'd have to really know him to know that.

The facial expressions I see on the Careers are very familiar. Our Success Masks, I call them. You put on this blank face – not a smile, not a frown, and you stare through anything and anyone as though they aren't there.

When you first see it at twelve years old, it can be a little unnerving. The CEC officially bans hazing, but there's a way of passing it on from one group to the next. What the eighteen-year-olds do is put their Success Masks on, walk into the gym on the first day with the twelve-year-olds, and give 'em that stare. The instructors are always conveniently absent.

Then the fear of the Capitol strikes them when one of the eighteens says, "One of you little shrimps, come up and fight me. _Now_."

One of them always faints when that happens.

When I was twelve, it was Janus who fainted. I admit to being pretty scared myself, my legs shaking as I looked up with wide eyes at these tall, bulky almost-adults who could probably snap someone's back without even blinking.

Then they all grinned in unison and left.

I remember watching a group of eighteen-year-olds leaving the gym just after the first new twelves showed up, and after they closed the door the group burst out laughing. The eighteens that scared me when I was twelve probably did just that.

The Success Mask is also a good way to hide when you're hurting like hell, physically or emotionally. The CEC sometimes mixes things up and has different age groups fight each other to get us used to different fighting styles than we're familiar with. Twelves fight thirteens, thirteens fight twelves or fourteens, and it goes up the ages like that. It is also a good way for the instructors to evaluate us.

A few months ago, Tarsus went up against a somewhat familiar-looking seventeen-year-old girl who was as tall as he was, and who was really good with a sword. He lost two rounds, and in the third he nearly got impaled on her sword. In moving backward, he tripped and fell on his back, losing his sword in the process. At that point, the trainer blew the whistle, ending the thing.

Nobody had to say anything to know it wasn't good for him. But Tarsus didn't let anything show as he stood up, brushed himself off and shook the girl's hand.

The only clue I had as to how much it cost him to be humiliated by someone older was after he stood next to me. As I brushed his shoulder with mine, I could feel him trembling, and I saw a muscle pulse under his jaw. That was all. His face was blank; no expression at all.

Tarsus told me later his trainer forced him to practice with a sword for twelve hours straight on what would have been his day off.

That has happened to me, as well. When I was thirteen, I lost spectacularly in wrestling against a fourteen-year-old. My trainer made me wrestle a sixteen-year-old on my day off until I couldn't move anymore.

My thoughts come back to the present as the crowd begins to fall silent. I see Mayor Leckstrom and our Capitol escort standing near the podium, ready to go on about the history of the Games and our District's willingness to serve the Capitol.

Maybe at one point this speech was interesting. Now it's just _boring_. But I've long instinctively understood that openly showing boredom is dangerous. So I keep my Success Mask on, staring at the mayor, who's now deep in the middle of blather about the oceans rising.

But _finally_ the speech is over, and now he's announcing the past Victors. I see Brutus and Lyme among the others. We've put in a pretty decent showing over the last sixty years or so, compared to District Twelve, which has just the one guy, Hayseed, or Hay-something.

Once the mayor is done, our Capitol escort, who, as best as I can tell, seems to be just one big orange thing from head to toe, bellows, "Welcome, everyone! Let's see who we send to the Capitol this year!"

Huh. We've got a woman this year. She's new, then. And now the Reapings begin.

The woman yells, "Just for some variety, we'll draw the boys first this time!"

Tarsus and I exchange a glance, then shrug. Since the mayor hasn't moved to intervene and the Peacekeepers aren't moving in, I guess the Capitol escorts can do what they like as long as the names get drawn.

She draws from the glass ball containing the boys' names, and with a flourish she pulls out a piece of paper and reads the name.

"Tarsus Silva!"

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work! :-)


	3. Chapter 3

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

"_Tarsus Silva!"_

His name echoes in my ears.

I have no choice.

I clamp my hand on his tricep, keeping him from moving as I yell, "_I volunteer!_" Some other people say the same thing, but I'm the loudest.

I look over at Tarsus, and his mask has slipped the tiniest bit. His eyes are showing an undefinable emotion. Is it anger? Relief? Resentment? Resistance?

It must be the last, because I can feel him trying to knock my hand away so he can raise his hand and refuse. I grip harder, my fingers digging in. I _have_ to do this. I should have volunteered for Janus.

I _will_ volunteer for Tarsus.

Brutus is at the edge of the stage, beckoning me forward.

I lean over briefly and say, "Tarsus, I've got no choice. You know it."

He's wincing as I let go of his arm, but there's a set to his jaw I don't like. I think if he could have found a way to push me back into the row and go up there, he would.

I briskly march up to the front, stopping only briefly when I encounter a scowling seventeen-year-old. I lunge at him, shoving him back against the rope, glaring at him in warning as I keep moving.

The Capitol lady looks impressed, and Brutus smiles thinly. He says, "I think we've seen that this volunteer can handle it. Everybody else, back into your places!"

The other would-be male volunteers grumble as they get back into their rows. I see the one guy I shoved shake off his friend's consolation. I almost expect a fight to break out, but they settle down quickly.

The lady says, "And what's your name, young man?"

"Aurelius Decker."

I take a deep breath and turn to face the audience, my hands clasped behind my back, my Success Mask firmly in place. I will _not_ tremble. I will _not_ be nervous. This is what I've been trained for. I will go to that Arena, and come back a Victor.

The girl's half of the Reaping has a bit less drama to it.

"Ayala Vann!" is called. I see a girl near the front moving out from her row, and I can tell she's not a Career since I don't recognize her. Another girl near her, but who's in the seventeens section, raises her hand and says firmly, "I volunteer!"

There's something familiar about her.

Several others have also volunteered. Brutus quickly consults with the other Victors, and chooses the seventeen-year-old Career. As she makes her way to the front, it clicks. She's the girl who beat Tarsus at swordfighting!

Then I also remember that I've seen her looking at me sometimes during meals; she's pretty good-looking, but I don't know much about her.

Mentally, I reassess my chances of winning, but I know we'll be able to form an alliance with Districts One and Four. When the alliance breaks, I'll have to eventually…

It's one thing to see your fellow Careers as potential enemies. But even when swordfighting, actually lethal moves are frowned upon. We do those with practice dummies.

But I know how that sentence ends: _I'll have to eventually kill her_.

My hands quiver the tiniest bit. I take a calming breath, in my nose and out my barely-parted lips. My own nervousness and fear is something I have to deal with as much as any physical or animal enemy in the Arena. Only a stupid tribute is totally unafraid. The smart ones know how to confront it.

Brutus didn't win by being stupid, and I've taken his lessons all to heart over the years. You'd think being screamed at when I was fourteen would have made me hate him. Yes, I did hate him. I still hate what he said to me. But I had to learn to shut that hate off when I listened to him. By forcing myself to listen and not hate, I've made myself a better tribute.

The Capitol lady is speaking again, though. She says, "Aurelius Decker and Adria Adrastea! Shake hands, please."

Perfunctorily, we shake hands amid the applause from the audience. Adria's got a good firm grip. I look into her eyes, taking her measure, and she's doing the same for me. She's got black hair and dark brown, almost black, eyes. She'll be a bit better at camouflage at night, I decide. My blond hair will be a liability. I'll just have to be more vigilant.

I can't read her expression. Good. She won't lose her cool in the alliance.

One of the things the instructors try to warn us about when we review old Hunger Games is how District Two tributes seem to lose their cool more often than you'd expect from random chance. We're always told to not let our anger and aggression get the better of us.

Yet Rufus Gladius, the guy who replaced my cousin, let himself get provoked by the District One winner over something stupid: he didn't like being called "lion". He started fighting like a crazed berserker, and all it took was not paying attention as he stumbled over a tree root. The girl was on him in a flash, and her knife stuck out of his chest before he had a chance to stand up.

I promise myself I will not lose my cool. I will _not_ let someone mentioning morphling to me upset me. What must the Capitol think of us when we get upset over things like that?

Some of my dad's friends gesture me into the Justice Building. With that, the Reaping's over, and I'll be on my way to the Capitol – the Capitol I have served all my life. I will make them proud of me.

/\/\/\

I'm escorted to a luxurious empty room. I learn that the Capitol lady's name is Rhea Aloysius when she briefly reintroduces herself to me before reminding me I have one hour to say my goodbyes.

We Careers don't usually see velvet in training, but my father has a velvet chair in the living room back at home that's only for him. The only time he has ever hit me in anger was when I sat in it without permission and got belted on my back for it. Mom and I always sit on the couch, which is made of something less expensive.

I hesitate a bit, but this isn't my dad's chair. I settle in and get comfortable, scouting the room for what I could use against an opponent if I had to. There's a couple of heavy brass candlesticks on a table at the far end, and I see a letter opener next to them.

Tarsus is first through the door. I jump up and we embrace in a fierce hug. He's squeezing me for all he's worth, and I find myself returning the strength of his embrace.

He murmurs into my ear, "Damn it, Aurelius, I _knew_ something was going to happen!"

We loosen our grip on each other, and Tarsus grasps my shoulders. "It should have been me," he says.

I scoff, "And I should get yelled at by Brutus again? No way. You know how it works, Tarsus. We're to show our devotion to the Capitol by volunteering for the Games."

His hands are shaking. Just a bit, but they're shaking.

A _click _alerts me that Janus has slipped in the door. He's watching us, a bit puzzled.

I grip his upper arms and in a low voice, I say, "I know it's not quite the same as when Janus got reaped. But it's hard, isn't it? You're supposed to be eager, right? And you're supposed to not care if someone close to you will end up in the Arena. But it doesn't work that way. I froze up at Janus's reaping. And you're wondering if I'll come back in a box, aren't you?"

Tarsus's control nearly slips.

Damn it, he can't be seen crying. The Careers will be merciless if he walks out there sniffling with red eyes.

I lean in for a kiss and he responds. We only break the kiss after Janus coughs. He jokingly says, "Hey, any longer and I'd have had to pull you apart."

The thought of Janus, who's probably a good fifteen kilograms lighter than me, yanking me away from Tarsus makes me grin and chuckle.

Tarsus seems a bit calmer. His grin wavers a bit as he reaches out to clasp my hand, pulling it to his chest. I can feel his heartbeat through the back of my hand. His voice is steady as he looks into my eyes and says, "Aurelius Decker, _promise_ me you'll come back a Victor."

I can't quite identify the emotion in his eyes, but I know he's saying it honestly. I pull his hand to my chest and say, "I promise, Tarsus Silva."

Janus moves closer to us. He's frowning, but not in disgust. It's like he's figured something out.

He points at both of us and at our clasped hands and says, "You two love each other, don't you?"

Shocked, I look at Tarsus. He's surprised, too. I let go of his hand awkwardly and say, "No, that can't be right."

Tarsus drops his hand, shaking his head. "We're just… Janus, we're good friends. I can't love him. I _can't_. Not like this."

He's right. Love is too dangerous for us as Careers. It'll distract us. It'll keep me from my objective.

Janus looks at us both, then drops his gaze and sighs. "Never mind. I wasn't thinking."

Relieved to be able to crack a joke, I reply, "Yeah, big surprise there. Used up all your brains on your guns, huh?"

There are chuckles all around as Tarsus furthers the joke, saying, "Yeah, and I bet with your girlfriend, there's one gun you're thinking of shooting, huh?"

Janus gives him a dirty look as he steps close to me and says, "Aurelius, I'll let Tarsus do all the mushy stuff. But come back, okay?"

We embrace. As I let go, I say, "I'll do my best. But if I don't, find out which District Victor got me, Peacekeep their house, and make their life miserable."

Janus's jaw sets. "You better believe it. I'll even bulk up and look like a granite block like you for when I go on my tour of duty."

Tarsus says, "And I'll volunteer next year and get my revenge for you, Aurelius. I swear it."

I lift my eyebrows. He's not joking. His shoulders are thrown back, and I can almost see him start throwing volunteers out of his way, left, right and center, showing his loyalty to me.

I could almost believe he _does_ love me.

But I can't think about that. I _have_ to focus on the Games.

The door bangs, showing that my parents and Uncle Thasius have been waiting for me. Janus and Tarsus need to leave.

At the door, Janus turns back, looks me in the eye, and raises his clenched fist. _Victory_, he means.

Tarsus does the same, then briefly places his hand over his heart, then leaves with my cousin.

My farewells with the older generation of my family are briefer.

I'm more used to hugging Janus, but it seems today is the day for hugs. My mother firmly embraces me and says, "I've watched you train. I've always taught you to win. Prove me right, Aurelius."

Dad and Uncle Thasius hug me too, offering encouragement. Fleetingly, I notice I've grown as tall as my father, who's a hundred and ninety centimeters tall. One-ninety-and-ninety-kilograms pops into my head. This irrelevant piece of information stays there as they leave the room. I fiddle with my wrist identification, which contains my name and an ID code, called the Unique Master Identification Number. Everyone in Two has one of these, and it's mostly so if a stone quarrier dies, they can still tell who he is.

Almost forty-five minutes have gone. I don't expect anyone else to show up, mainly because of the detachment from each other we Careers are supposed to have (a rule which Tarsus and I seem to keep breaking).

I kill the last few minutes wandering around the room, collecting my thoughts. In my mind's eye, I see an Arena with twenty-three other people like me, ready to kill for the honor of being called Victor.

I will show the Capitol a District Two tribute that reflects the best of us, and that Victor _will_ be me.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for beta reading this chapter. :)

Also, for metric conversions, one inch = 2.54 centimeters, one kilogram = 2.205 pounds. So Aurelius is six foot three, and almost 200 pounds, which is pretty typical of an athletic male. Incidentally, I know that in reading the Hunger Games, Katniss uses an imperial measure (the train can run at 250 MPH on average), but I've chosen to assume that for reasons of diversity in the Districts that District Two tends to rely on metric measures.

Also: The Unique Master Identification Number was inspired by the so-called Unique Master Citizen Number used in the former Yugoslavia.


	4. Chapter 4

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 4

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

I don't know how the reporters and people with television cameras managed to all crowd near the car that'll take me and Adria to the train, but it's a new experience to have a person get that close and not be either your lover or your opponent. I'm just hoping my Success Mask hasn't revealed anything to other tributes who'll be watching this. They'll be watching us, looking for any exploitable weaknesses later in the Games.

The train itself is like a shining, gleaming metal bullet. Adria and I get out of the car, not acknowledging each other except for the slightest of looks as we mount the platform, then turn to face the cameras in front of the entrance into the train.

After several flashes and incoherent babbling by the reporters for their cameras, they stampede off and we enter the train itself. It's even nicer than the Justice Building's interior. Rhea rushes up to us in the corridor, excitedly babbling about snacks and a meeting in a bit. She shows us to our rooms, which are next to each other. Mine's got DISTRICT 2, MALE on a visiplate attached to the door.

Rhea chirps, "Just go inside and get comfortable! I'll come back to get you in a while. Oh, and I'll reprogram that so it has your name on it."

She smiles at each of us then scurries off. The train begins accelerating. I shift my stance against the slight push to the rear.

We're not really supposed to know the details of what goes on between tributes and mentors, but there's enough Victors in District Two the information seems to get around the CEC almost as fast as the wind.

I look at Adria, who regards me coolly. She walks up to me and says, "Allies for now?"

I nod. "Sure. That's how it works, right?"

She's got the slightest of smiles on her face. "Then I'll expect you to be fighting back to back with me at the Cornucopia."

I nod firmly and reach for the door to my room. I say, "Brutus and Lyme will probably have more to say to us later. See you then?"

She shrugs. Adria knows the score and so do I.

There's no longer a slight push towards the rear, so I know the train's now at a steady speed. I enter my room and am impressed. My bedroom has a fairly stiff bed, a chair and desk, and a few other odds and ends. But _this_ room is definitely a step up. If I had this room I'd end up sleeping in all the time and missing CEC training sessions.

I try the bed and it's _very_ comfortable; as I sit on it, I sink down into the mattress. I lay on it experimentally for a while, and it's like being in a cocoon when I pull the sheets up over me.

If I stay there I'll fall asleep, so I quickly jump out of bed and explore the rest of the room.

The closet has clothes that are roughly in my size. I'm dressed in a clean white shirt and my best slacks, but my mentors will likely make me change into these Capitol clothes.

The bathroom has the fanciest shower stall I've ever seen. There's several buttons in the stall and I have no idea why you'd need them. I can shower in less than ten minutes with basic shampoo and a bar of soap, and shaving is easy. Lather up a bar of soap, rub it over my face, then put some hot water in a shaving mug and dip the razor in every now and then to wash the stubble and soap off the blade.

I fleetingly wonder if there's an automatic shaving device in that bathroom too.

A knock at the door alerts me to Rhea's presence. She's got Adria with her, and we make our way further down the corridor into a large dining room with a round table in the middle. Brutus and Lyme are seated on the side closer to the window showing the hills and mountains passing by.

Adria and I sit next to each other in two of the three remaining chairs, and Rhea takes the last one.

There's a television mounted against the wall facing the front of the train, so it looks like we'll get right down to business. Right about now, Tarsus and I would be avidly watching the reapings, wondering who the District Two people should watch out for. Janus would sometimes join us, too.

So it looks like as we eat, we'll be evaluating the other tributes.

Lyme says, "You both are settled in?"

Adria and I nod, murmuring approval of the rooms.

"Okay. We'll eat; Rhea has arranged for some food, both District Two and Capitol—"

Rhea breaks in, excitedly saying, "You'll _love_ the sushi. It's to _die_ for, honestly!"

Lyme continues with a deadpan expression. "You'll want to eat. Not too much, but definitely eat. You won't have much food in the Games and there's no point telling you to starve yourselves. So fill up and forget the CEC diet restrictions. Meanwhile, we'll watch the Reapings. Don't worry about details. We'll watch them again after we eat. Just get general impressions for now – who the tributes are, and whether any of them really stand out as potential threats. If you see anyone who catches your eye, let us know for when we watch the second time."

Brutus says, "Speaking of time. This train doesn't need to go as fast as the one from District Twelve, but we're still a much shorter distance away from the Capitol. We'll be in here for about eight hours. Enough time to eat, review the Reapings, and for you two to get a short nap."

Adria's frowning. "A nap? Seriously?"

Rhea babbles, "Why, of course! You'll be landing late at night tonight, and we'll put you up in the Training Center. Then you'll be up at the _crack_ of dawn to get down to the Remake Center for your stylists!"

I mutter, "Okay, if that's how it works."

Lyme nods and says, "It is. Remember, we're your mentors. Do what we tell you or pay the consequences. If you disobey, we will send you _nothing_ in the Arena. No sponsor gifts. Not even an empty parcel. Do you both understand me?"

Brutus puts it bluntly. "You _have_ to follow our instructions. If you do, we'll take care of you. Every step of the way."

Adria and I look at each other, then look at our mentors. We nod in unison, accepting our roles.

Rhea wraps this up by bouncing over to the television, then calling for the servants to bring in food. None of them speak a word as they set up a buffet against the far wall. Meanwhile, the Reaping for District Two happens to be replaying. The reporter says, "And as you all can see, District Two's got a couple of _rocklike_ tributes this year! Watch as Aurelius Decker fearlessly volunteers, marching up to the stage!"

_Rocklike?_ These Capitol people love their silly descriptions.

But it's kind of fascinating to see me _stalk_ up to the reaping balls like this vid of a panther I saw once, when I was assigned to watch a nature show about animals so I could study what kinds of muttations might be in the Hunger Games.

Adria's similarly interested in her image on the screen as she walks, straight-backed, amid the reporter's breathless commentary: "And here comes Adria Adrastea, who's practically ready to get in the Arena already!"

Adria and I look at each other with stunned expressions. I'm pretty sure they weren't quite this weirdly overenthusiastic about our tributes during the previous Reapings.

Brutus and Lyme are busy with their plates at the buffet table, and Rhea's not even paying attention to us. I shake my head briefly and get out of my chair, and Adria takes that as her cue to get food as well.

I dubiously examine what looks like a can amidst several others in a bowl of ice, and Rhea, upon seeing this, starts twittering about it. "Oh! Fizzy-cola! I _love_ it, really! I've heard you get it in District Two. Now, why don't you try the sushi? Here, take the cucumber rolls and some soya sauce."

Before I can protest, I'm loaded down with six of these "rolls". They have slices of cucumber in the middle, with what looks like rice wrapped around them, and this green stuff holds it all together. I vaguely recall something called seaweed that they supposedly have in District Four. The "soya sauce" is this brown liquid that, I'm assured, tastes very salty. It comes in a little container.

I look longingly at the thick ham sandwiches and promise myself to get something more normal on the next trip back to the buffet.

At the table, I see Adria has a slice of hot roast beef with steam rising off it, and mashed potatoes. She's got a can of the Fizzy-cola, as well.

Rhea demonstrates the way you open the can, and I take a tentative sip. It's… bizarre. It's like extremely sweet, fizzy water with molasses in it.

_Capitol people _drink_ this stuff? And we have it in my District?_

Mom probably banned this stuff from our house from day one. No wonder I didn't know you could get it.

The cucumber things taste strange. The soya sauce, which I dip them into, makes them taste salty as I also taste the blandness of the seaweed and the familiar cucumber taste. I've occasionally had rice, but only by itself. It's just really… odd, eating these things.

My attention on the food means I'm barely noticing the other Reapings, I catch flashes of the girl from District One, who's really beautiful. The set of her jaw tells me she could be a formidable Career, though. Then I notice District Six's boy, who's a scrawny guy this year. He's dressed in a shabby grey shirt and worn-out denims.

I get my chance at normal food as I grab a ham sandwich plus a slice of roast beef, some vegetables and mashed potatoes. I continue sipping my drink and working on my food as my eye catches a tall boy from District Nine who looks unafraid at his Reaping. I look at Lyme, catching her eye and nodding at the television.

As I swallow the last of my food, I briefly notice the boy and girl from District Twelve shaking hands. They're maybe thirteen years old, and even from where the camera is, I can tell they're shaking nervously.

They shouldn't even try to go into the bloodbath. I could kill them in a second.

Rhea surveys us and says, "All finished? Good! Dessert coming up!"

She bustles out to get the servants, and Brutus shoves his plate toward the center of the table. He says, "All right. We'll review the Reapings district by district. Now, for starters, have you two discussed what you'll do?"

I nod. "We've decided to be allies already."

Lyme says, "So you will want to be coached together, then, for Training before the Games?"

Adria replies, "Yes. I don't see any reason to claim Aurelius and I could hide anything from each other. We've been through the same skill training. We've done all the same things. The only difference between us will be what our strengths are."

"Sensible. Then we'll mentor you both, as well. More typically, I would mentor the girl and Brutus would mentor the boy, but we'll ignore that this time."

Rhea's back. She says, "They're not quite ready yet. Something about the frozen ice-cream cakes." She waves her hand in dismissal. "I'll go get it brought in later."

Brutus says, "Rhea, would you mind getting us something to write with?"

She happily brings out some paper and a pen, and Brutus starts out by writing in clear block letters, "DISTRICT ONE".

She picks up on this and sets the television to repeat the Reapings from another channel that puts the names of each tribute as a subtitle below a still picture of them from the ceremony. I've seen this before, too.

/\/\/\

After we're done, Brutus's list looks like this:

_District One_

Bell Drossen (female) – likely Career, will use beauty to advantage  
Peer Faust (male) – likely Career, appears strong

_District Three_

Callie Edwards (female) – no obvious strengths or weaknesses  
Ethan Cross (male) – looks almost eighteen, likely to know explosives

_District Four_

Sevan Odell (female) – likely Career, will certainly be able to swim  
Chevis Bannon (male) – likely Career, will likely be able to swim

_District Five_

Emily Thomas (female) – extremely nervous at Reaping  
Daniel Schreck (male) – a young boy, nearly fainted at Reaping

_District Six_

Diana Burton (female) – calm, poised, possible Career pack?  
Derek Tyras (male) – no obvious strengths or weaknesses

_District Seven_

Faith Demoss (female) – no obvious strengths or weaknesses  
Nicholas Jackson (male) – seems strong, did not seem upset at Reaping

_District Eight_

Serena Allen (female) – seems fit and quick on her feet, accidentally tripped but recovered in time  
Dusty Rhodes (male) – looks sixteen, intelligent

_District Nine_

Angela Palmer (female) – somewhat small and nervous  
Augustus Rockwell (male) – tall, looks eighteen, did not seem afraid at his Reaping… could bring him into the Career pack?

_District Ten_

Rachel Perry (female) – no obvious strengths or weaknesses  
Oriel Wilson (male) – no obvious strengths or weaknesses

_District Eleven_

Alaray Lewison (female) – no obvious strengths or weaknesses  
Joren Sanderson (male) – somewhat tall, possibly also Career pack if skilled with weapons?

_District Twelve_

Cadence Willow (female) – extremely nervous at Reaping  
Azure Sage (male) – also extremely nervous at Reaping

/\/\/\

Brutus pokes his pen at the list and says, "Adria, you said you think Diana Burton from Six might be someone to pay attention to, and Aurelius, you pointed out Augustus Rockwell from Nine.

"I also want you two to watch out for District Three. Most people don't pay enough attention to them. The boy looks old enough to know how to handle explosives. And you have a ready-made supply of explosives at the Arena. So if you don't pull him into your Career pack, do _not_ let him get near the Cornucopia."

Lyme chimes in, saying, "Most of the others – especially the younger-looking ones – will either run well away from the bloodbath or they will die at the bloodbath. You two need to be _extremely_ aware of everything happening when you run into the Cornucopia area to get your weapons. You've been taught about this in your analysis of old Hunger Games, but I'm telling you again because you'll be responsible for dispatching all the ones foolish enough to try and slip through the bloodbath. Understood?"

Rhea seems rather bored of this, and suddenly realizes something. "My goodness! I need to go and call ahead about your rooms at the Training Center!"

She bustles out with a bag that I didn't see before. It must have the stuff she brought with her to District Two.

Brutus sprints up and checks the door, making sure nobody's listening.

He says, "Another thing. The audience likes it when it looks like tributes have mixed it up before the Games even start. This will be a bit of misdirection, a bit of a mind game. The other tributes will be wondering if the killing machines from District Two have had a falling-out or if they're going to work together. That uncertainty will keep them from figuring out what you'll really do until the moment the bloodbath starts."

I'm frankly surprised. "You want Adria and me to fight? Here?"

Brutus nods. "Hand to hand. Do some damage. Not to the room, though. Lyme and I will slip out to get the desserts brought in, since it looks like Rhea forgot. We'll take our time getting back and it'll look like you two had an argument."

I stand up, the adrenalin flowing. Adria's standing too, grinning. We move to the clear space by the television while Brutus and Lyme exit the room. I say, "So what should we blame this on? The truth? 'Cause I want to win, you know."

Adria lifts her eyebrows in a sardonic expression. "So do I, even if it'll mean going through you."

My fist snaps out, just missing her jaw as she ducks it. She grabs my arm, showing her strength as she just about manages to twist it behind my back, but I'm still heavier and a bit stronger. I shake loose from the hold, then grab her arm, hooking my foot in front of hers and yanking, hard.

Adria goes flying to the floor, only to lithely snap back to her feet. I make a note of those fast reflexes for later.

I jab my hand toward her stomach, which glances off as she shifts backward. It's not enough to do any real damage, and she quickly gets her revenge with a series of jabs to my upper body, which I dodge as I end up almost against the wall.

Going on the offensive, I try a roundhouse kick, which she manages to just dodge, then feints with a punch to my face from my left, only for me to catch a backhand to my temple from my right which is strong enough to snap my head back.

I clench my teeth and shake my head, then wait, anticipating her next move.

Her right foot snaps out, and just as quickly, I grab it, twisting sharply to force her to move with it or risk a bone being dislocated or broken. As Adria hits the floor heavily, I snap a kick to her thigh, more than enough to bruise, but not to break the bone. She cries out, and as she's glaring daggers at me, Brutus, Lyme and Rhea burst in the room.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9 **for the beta work and helping with the names. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 5

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

Brutus barks, "Get up! Both of you, _now_."

I stand rigidly, my hands by my sides, as Adria scrambles to her feet, wincing as she steps forward to stand next to me. We're both still breathing heavily from the exertion.

Brutus is only an arm length away from me. His back is to Rhea, so he winks quickly as he barks, "If you two are allies, _act like it_. You're lucky we'll leave this incident alone. Now sit down at the table and finish your food like _proper_ tributes."

Sensing that I need to make at least a show of complaining, I say, "But Brutus—"

His hand comes down hard on my shoulder, clamping just a bit as he says, "What was that, Aurelius?"

Sullenly, I say, "Never mind."

"Good. Which one of you started it doesn't interest me. Now _sit_." Brutus gives us both a hard-eyed look, apparently for Rhea's benefit, before releasing my shoulder, coming behind us and giving us both a shove.

Speaking of whom, I look at her. Rhea flutters her hands and says, "Oh, my! I only get to see your handiwork during the Games, but to see actual fights up close! My goodness, they should sponsor some kind of ultimate fighting championship to be seen live."

Rhea bustles off to grab a cake from one of the servants busy setting up the desserts on the buffet table, and while her back's turned, Lyme is smirking slightly.

I decide on a chocolate cake, while Adria gets some ice cream. Both are positive delicacies in the CEC. Generally we only get to see any sweet things when we get a dinner on the day a Victor comes to our District on the Victory Tour. Before I sit at the table, I double back and remember to grab a fork.

At the table, Rhea looks at me, then does a double take. "My goodness! You've got a pretty nasty-looking bruise on your head, there, and it looks like you're getting a bit of a black eye, too. I do hope the stylists can clear that up." My head _does_ hurt a bit, but I've had worse in training. To Adria, she says, "And dear, how are you doing?"

Adria shrugs as she spoons up the ice cream, but I can see she's rubbing her leg where I kicked her. She's been limping since then.

Rhea babbles on about her idea to have two tributes fight in some kind of sectioned-off area, complete with roaring crowds and people paying to see two people beat each other up. I dimly remember they told us once at the CEC that our training is modelled on the kind of training people used to get for another ancient kind of games, called the Olympics. A couple of sports, called boxing and wrestling, were mentioned as being the origin of some of the techniques we're taught.

Brutus fingers his district tribute list and considers it again. He passes it to Lyme, who studies it intently as well. The chocolate cake is sweet, but very rich, and I'm finding it's a bit of an effort to swallow the last few bites.

The sun's just starting to set as the train speeds toward the Capitol. Lyme notices this and says, "All right. Adria, Aurelius – go to your rooms and sleep. As Rhea said, you'll be waking early tomorrow morning and you need to catch up on your sleep now because we'll wake you up just before the train stops in the Capitol. Then you can sleep more in the Training Center."

Brutus says, "Any last-minute analysis of the Reapings?"

I shrug. The basic strategy seems pretty sound: hook up with Districts One and Four, then check out Six and Nine. Maybe see if Eleven wants in, too.

Adria shakes her head; she must be pretty satisfied with the way we want to go.

Brutus slaps the table lightly. "Right. Meeting's over. Let's go."

We all stand. Rhea decides to sample some more desserts, mumbling something about lacking her "usual ration of V-juice". Lyme, for some reason, rolls her eyes at this and stalks out ahead of us as Brutus trails behind, closing the door to the dining room as we step into the corridor. Adria's limping a bit.

He says quickly, "Aurelius, make sure to act like you're embarrassed about that bruise on your head and cover it up a bit as we leave the train. Adria, exaggerate your limp when we leave. The Capitol will go crazy over it."

_Deliberately_ showing weakness? My mind rebels at the thought. I swallow, hard, as I try to formulate a response that won't get me in trouble.

Adria's jaw muscles are working; she's clearly thinking the same thing. To play up an injury in order to get out of training is one of the lowest things you can do. I suddenly remember with sharp clarity something that happened about a year ago.

/\/\/\

There was a boy a year below me in one of the CEC's occasional cross-year tournament sessions. Tarsus was fighting against him in a sparring session with flails in addition to the usual unarmed combat rules. Near the end of the duel, the other guy left his side open and unguarded as he shifted away from a kick. Tarsus's hand was just a flash as he whipped the flail against the boy's side, just below the ribs. The noise the flail made was almost like a whip cracking, and it could have been heard throughout the gymnasium. The boy's scream told us how hard the blow had been.

Tarsus won, leaving the other boy collapsed on the floor clutching his side, shivering as his face went pale. The trainers picked him up and dispatched him to Medical, which is not unusual during such sessions for losers of the bouts. I've been sent off once or twice myself; I got a broken leg a few months ago from such a tournament. I gained a new respect for lead-filled staves that day.

However, not long after that match between Tarsus and the other boy, there were some strange whispers and rumors I started hearing during some lunch breaks. On the days when we'd see the people one year below us, I'd notice the boy was missing – missing a lot longer than you'd expect for an X-ray and a night to see if he's peeing blood. Was he dead? Arrested? One particularly crazy story was that he'd fallen trying to climb a cliff without proper safety gear, and he'd been taken away to a secret Peacekeeper base somewhere.

I got my answer on one of my days off not long after the rumors started. It was early September and still very warm.

Mother had sent me to one of the other villages to get a rappelling rope from another trainer. She'd told me the address, and I actually enjoyed being quite a few kilometers away, all by myself in a new place I hadn't seen much of.

At the trainer's house, I had my hand up and was going to knock, only to be surprised as the boy who'd disappeared answered the door, his shirt off. He blurted, "Dad! You—"

He broke off when he realized I wasn't his dad, and his eyes widened in alarm. He tripped over and hit the floor as he tried to scramble away from the view of the street.

I rushed inside, shutting the door, only to stop and stare in shock at the boy's back. Whip marks crisscrossed it, and they were pretty fresh.

I understood then why he'd had his shirt off and why his father hadn't answered the door; the guy was expecting his father, who must have been out getting a salve or something.

I blurted, "What's your name, anyway?"

"Vincent. What's it to you, jerkoff?" He scrambled to his feet, facing me. His face reddened with humiliation.

"What _happened?_"

Vincent snorted. "What do you think? I just… thought I could get an extra day or two in Medical away from training, if I told them I still felt like it hurt when that guy with the flail got me."

I felt like I'd just tasted something disgusting. I spat out, "You slacked, didn't you? _Malingerer._"

"I paid for it, didn't I? Oh, sure, I got my two days of laying around in my bed. The doctors must have known, though, because two Peacekeepers came to get me on the day I was supposed to be discharged. They took me to the jail and—"

Vincent's stoic expression began to break, and he looked down at the floor. I heard him sniffle slightly. He looked back up at me, his eyes a bit red. He softly said, "You know what they did to me? They whipped me until I _passed out_. Then when I woke up, they dumped me on the front steps here like garbage."

I sneered. "You deserved it. Nobody slacks off in the CEC."

Anger crossed Vincent's expression. "Well, I'm not in there anymore. They kicked me out, and I'm going to work in the stone quarries for the rest of my life. My dad's just waiting for my back to heal, then he's sending me to the local Community Home. He can barely stand to look at me."

I wasn't going to fall for his sob story. I said, "You screw up, you pay the consequences, _Vincent_."

He wore a defeated expression. "I hope it's worth it to you to look down on me right now, because if they ever think you screwed up, you'll be in the quarries along with me, and I'll just tell you 'I told you so.' I've already been on one shift. You know what twenty-five years there does to you?"

I laughed mockingly. "I won't screw up. You know why? Because I'm not a slacker who thinks stealing two extra days is worth what you just got: _oblivion._"

Bitterly, he growled through gritted teeth, "_I didn't know!_ I actually thought I'd get away with it. You're hurt, you need time to heal. So what if it takes an extra day, right? Fucking doctors."

I turned my back to look out the window to see if his dad was back yet. I say, without turning around, "Get out of here. I don't want to talk to you anymore."

"You can't talk to me like that in my own house, asshole!"

Oh, this was too _perfect_. I turned and hissed maliciously, "Oh, but it _isn't_, is it? Your dad's practically disowned you, you pathetic piece of shit." Menacingly, I stepped forward. "You wanna get whipped again? C'mon, I dare you. Hit me. My dad's a Peacekeeper."

Vincent's fist was half-raised when he heard that last sentence. His face went white and he stammered, "A P-Peacekeeper?"

"Yeah. So, in simple words, don't touch me. And go _away._" I beckoned him away, like I was the President shooing away District Thirteen.

Vincent left, and not long after that his dad came home, bearing a small container. I got the rappelling rope and went back home.

I wasn't sure how secret my meeting with Vincent was supposed to be, so I only told Tarsus the full story after they announced that "Vincent Bergman, injured two weeks ago, is no longer in traning". But I did tell some of the other fifteen-year-olds that I'd seen Vincent going to the stone quarries, and that got the message across. We all smartened up, moving a little faster, reacting a little more quickly.

Nobody wanted to be a stone quarrier. Ever. Especially not at just fourteen years old, like Vincent.

/\/\/\

Brutus is telling me to do something I could have been whipped for. Nonetheless, he's my mentor, and he can make or break me in the Hunger Games.

So I acquiesce, and he and Lyme go off on their own while Adria and I head back to our rooms. Just as I'm about to go into mine, she calls out, "Aurelius?"

I walk over to her door, which now reads "ADRIA ADRASTEA".

I say, "How's the leg?"

She smirks. "How's the eye?"

I shrug. "I've had worse. Good fight?"

"I've had better."

Her voice suddenly takes a confidential tone. She leans in and says, "Is it just me, or does it feel a lot like we're supposed to be lying to people?"

I nod. "You know, if we faked like that back home, we'd be in the stone quarries by now?"

"What the—? That wasn't just a rumor I heard about Vincent – that kid who disappeared from training way before evals?" Adria's genuinely shocked.

I shake my head no. "I saw him. They whipped him, then sent him to the stone quarries for faking. He was only fourteen."

She firmly says, "He deserved it."

I spread my hands and say, "We deserve it too, right now. But we're not being punished. So what makes us better than him?" Uncertainty creeps into me as I remember how _sure_ I was that Vincent was lower than a slug.

"We're _tributes_, Aurelius. And that makes us special."

I look her in the eyes. "Are we?"

She rolls her eyes. "If you're going to keep on like this, Aurelius, maybe I should shove you off the train now and call it an accident. They can always bring your boyfriend in as a replacement."

"Tarsus isn't like that for me." _Or is he? Janus thought we were in love with each other._ "How'd you find out about us anyway?"

Adria snorts. "Every guy and girl training at the CEC has needs, Aurelius. I even had my eye on you for a while at lunch breaks, but you always hung out with that other guy. You treat him differently than the others. Not much of a stretch to figure out who's taking care of you."

To cover my surprise, I scoff, "So who's taking care of you now?"

Adria says, "Nobody you know. He's eighteen, and he'll be out of the CEC soon, anyway." She presses herself against me, and a part of my brain realizes that she comes up to just under my nose. "But right now, it could be you."

I'm tempted. Just a bit.

But…

"Not now. We're supposed to be sleeping. And then doing… stuff, I guess, at the Remake Center."

Adria steps back a bit and says, "Offer's still open later on. See you." She opens her door and shuts it with a _click_.

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding, and go into my own room. It's time to figure out that shower.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work!

Also, while Aurelius comes off all self-righteous, keep in mind where he's from and what he does. He's in an environment that actively promotes the survival-of-the-fittest concept and he's in a District for which his alternatives are pretty slim: he can try to be a Peacekeeper, maybe score a job at a weapons factory, or he's looking at bashing rocks for the rest of his life if he can't get a job anywhere else. That's got to be going through the back of his head as he verbally spars with Vincent.


	6. Chapter 6

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 6

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

I've stripped my clothes off and am now inside the bathroom.

The bathroom, on a second inspection, is even fancier than I had originally gathered. The towels are luxuriantly fluffy, and I notice that the plethora of buttons in the shower are labeled. The shower can give you shampoo for "split ends", "sensitive skin", "full body", and a half dozen other terms I have no understanding of. And that's just for the shampoo, never mind the soap. There's a grey rectangular mat that's just outside the shower stall. I crouch down and touch it with my fingers; the surface is a bit rough, which makes sense since I wouldn't want to slip when stepping out of the stall.

There's a square black pad inset into the countertop near the sink. There's a warning engraved into a plate riveted near it, which reads: "**Do not touch unless styling hair.**"

They've even thrown in a fancy toothbrush with a switch that says ON/OFF on it.

For the first time, I really take in what the Capitol has to offer. If they can afford to give us this in a train, what incomparable wealth must there be in the Capitol itself?

I'm humbled and awed by what they've chosen to give us, the tributes and mentors, because we have proven our worthiness in serving the Capitol. For the first time, I appreciate why the Victors are given large houses with every possible convenience; they've proven they deserve to be rewarded so handsomely.

My resolve increases: District Two can produce a tribute and Victor who's not unstable. Though, to be fair, Lyme is quite level-headed. But Brutus – well, I've already been on his wrong side and the anger he can show when that happens is very genuine and very overwhelming.

As for the shower, at least the taps are familiar. Hot water gushes out of the showerhead, and experimentally I press the button that gives me shampoo for "full body", though why I need a body that's full I have no idea.

Abruptly, foam rushes out of the showerhead, covering my head in this stuff that smells like apples. Surprised, I jerk back, my shoulder blades hitting the wall opposite the showerhead. The showerhead's gone back to spraying water, and the foam's now dripping off my head and it's going to get into my eyes.

After closing my eyes, I work the shampoo into my hair just like I've always done with the cheap stuff at home, then step under the water to get it washed off so I can open my eyes again.

Right. Now the soap.

Making sure my head is clear of the showerhead, I push the button for the least strangely named soap, and sure enough, more foam rushes out of the showerhead, covering my chest and shoulders in this stuff that smells a bit like the generic soap bars I've always used.

After that, the shower goes pretty quickly since now I know how to work it.

Another surprise happens when I step out of the shower and onto the grey rectangular mat. All of a sudden, hot air billows down onto me from a ventilation duct above; something in the grey mat must be able to detect water! Soon, I'm fairly dry and the hot air stops blowing.

My awe of what the Capitol offers only increases with each step of the drying process. My hair's still damp and messy and I can't find a comb, so I put my left hand on the black pad with the warning. All I feel is a slight tingle through my head, but seeing my hair go completely straight with a part down the middle as though I'd combed it myself makes my jaw drop in disbelief.

I lift my hand and stare at it incredulously.

I puzzle out the electrically-powered toothbrush in a few seconds, and a minute later my teeth glisten in the light.

The only thing I can't do is shave, but I can ask Brutus later. He must have used these things before. I grab a towel and quickly dry off the remaining drops of water on me.

After putting the towel in a box labelled "Used towels", I head back into my room and find some clean underwear. It's all I've ever needed to sleep in, though in winter I sometimes wear a T-shirt as well.

Before long, I'm asleep in the luxurious bed.

/\/\/\

I'm woken from a dream in which I'm racing through a forest of palm trees, chasing something – or perhaps being chased by it. I'm a bit groggy and disoriented, but the knock on the door sends me wide awake. It's the same peremptory knock I've gotten from Mom when I've slept a bit too long. I realize I'm in the train on my way to the Capitol for the Hunger Games.

I rush to the door and open it; Brutus is there. He barks, "Good to see you're awake. You've got half an hour to get yourself ready. Dress in some new clothes; forget your reaping outfit. You won't need it."

The Capitol can even afford to waste clothes?

Before Brutus can leave, I say, "What about shaving?"

He dismisses that with a wave. "You won't need to worry. The stylists do a considerable amount of their own work on you. We'll discuss that more tomorrow at breakfast. Now get ready."

I nod and go through another shower, which is even quicker now that I know what to do. Once finished, I decide on a shiny light blue collared shirt which is made of even better material than my reaping shirt, which now lies in a heap with my old pants in a corner of the bedroom.

For pants, I pick a dark blue color and put that on. I remember my father would wear a belt when he had his Peacekeeping outfit, and sure enough, there's belts in the closet too. I grab a black one, and after fumbling with it for a bit, I've got it done up properly. New socks, brand-new shoes – I'm done.

I check my face in the mirror and I can see that my right eye's still purplish where Adria struck me, and my right temple has a reddish bruise.

I should be wearing those injuries as proof that I've taken damage and can keep coming back for more, not hiding them to entice a Capitol audience to go into a frenzy over me.

Brutus is knocking at my door again, and I can feel the train beginning to slow down. We move down the corridor to the exit, and I look out the window. Rhea's further down the hallway, clearly excited to be returning to the Capitol.

Adria's also out of her Reaping outfit, which was a collared shirt and good-quality denims. Now, she's in an outfit the Mayor's wife would be jealous of; it's a grey suit and skirt. Her shirt, which is made of a shiny material that I think is silk, is black. Her hair's absolutely straight, and she hasn't tied her hair back this time. It falls over her shoulders and makes her look good.

I've _never_ seen so many lights and colors and just – _everything_. Too many cars to count stream down the roads near the train station, and I can see the lights of hovercars flitting through the air. I look to my left, and Adria's grinning as she looks at the Capitol. Her smile transforms her expression; instead of the somber, focussed Career tribute I've seen until now, I see … a girl. A girl who, under other circumstances, I might have gotten to know in District Two.

She blurts, "I've never seen so many colors! Ever!"

I marvel, "And the buildings! How tall _are_ they?"

Adria's grin slowly leaves her face as she looks at me and says, "I wish I knew. To think we've been brought here – it's an _incredible_ honor."

Even though it must be the middle of the night, I see people lining the sidewalks near the train tracks, excitedly pointing and waving. We hesitantly wave back, causing them to go into an even greater frenzy as we hear car horns honking. Lyme, out of view of the audience, nods encouragingly, so we keep waving at the people who can see us.

The train's approaching a platform lit so brightly it might as well be daytime. When it comes to a stop, the exit door slowly opens. A man rushes up to the train and says, "Rhea? Are you there?"

She steps out and quickly talks with him as we, tributes and mentors, cluster around the doorway. After a moment, she beams at us and says, "Come on out! Just watch the ramp, there."

Brutus steps out first, followed by Adria, me, and finally, Lyme.

My first step into the Capitol is onto a clean shining floor of a train station so brightly lit it's making me think it's noon and not midnight.

Just outside the platform I can see people milling about and I hear an occasional shout. Rhea catches my expression and twitters, "Give them a good show, would you? They've waited _hours_ for us to come in, you know, even though we're arriving so late. They ought to be in bed for the big day tomorrow!"

Oh, right. The chariot rides.

Brutus eyes both me and Adria, silently reminding us to play up the injuries a bit.

Lyme walks ahead, side by side with Brutus, while Adria's limp gets a little more noticeable. It's only a few more steps, and then we're outside the station platform, plunged into a night of glitzy lights and yelling people. I try to keep my expression as blank as possible.

A bright light shines on me for a moment, and I reflexively lift my hand up, causing me to cover my right temple. I keep my hand there, peeking left and right as I wonder who in Panem would want to be out here to catch a fleeting glimpse of us tributes.

There's a couple of people with cameras trying to get some footage of us, and a person's babbling questions at us, but I can't make out what they're saying, and it looks like Adria can't either. So we just shake our heads and press onwards, which prompts them to zoom up to Brutus and Lyme to pepper them with questions.

Before I quite realize it, we're at the sleek expensive-looking car, a model I think not even the Mayor owns. Rhea sits up at the front with the driver, while us four sit in the back. A man with a camera points it at us as we clamber in; I look out and wave at the camera before Lyme yanks the car door shut. She and Brutus are seated with their backs facing forward, while Adria and I are in the true back seat of the car.

The silence in the car is a blessing after the roaring crowd, and Brutus nods approvingly. "I don't know if you noticed, but the reporter with the cameraman asked us if there were problems between you two. We said nothing, but that should be enough to keep everybody guessing. Expect questions from the other Careers at some point."

Lyme chimes in, saying, "Excellent outfit choices, both of you. You want to look a bit like the Capitol people do, but not outrageously so. Keep those ones and we can try to see if the stylists can work them into your interview outfits. We'll figure out your exact interview angles later, but in that, Aurelius, you look like a smart killer. Adria, in that, you look like the kind of person who lets nothing get in her way."

Watch out, Panem. District Two has arrived.

/\/\/\

The ride to the Training Center has me and Adria gawking out the windows like a couple of kids. We can't help it. District Two's villages are decently lit at night, but the streetlights are all the same cold white color, and you might see someone's light through a window or in one of the buildings, but they're pretty rare. Some people, like Tarsus sometimes, try to save electricity and use candles at night instead. And District Two's tallest human-made structure is probably the Justice Building, or maybe the Community Homes they have in each village.

The Capitol is _immense_. It really is. No wonder there's so many cars.

We're approaching what I think is the City Circle. I've seen it several times when we've watched old Hunger Games on television. If that's the case, then we'll be in the Training Center soon, and I can get some more sleep.

Sure enough, we pass by the large, recognizable President's mansion, brilliantly lit and perpetually guarded by Peacekeepers. We swing around the wide Circle, past more buildings, and finally end up at the cylindrical spire of the Training Center. The large bay doors, which I've seen chariots go into, dwarf us as the car comes to a halt in the large circular parking area, which is currently empty of anything or anyone except us and the car.

Lyme and Brutus help get the car doors open, and we all step out and rejoin Rhea. We walk to a set of doors which remind me of elevator doors I've seen in the CEC and at the Justice Building. Sure enough, when she presses the button to open them, we're in a clear glass elevator. There are several buttons, among them the numbers 1 to 12. Rhea pushes the button marked "2", and any comparison between elevators I have been in before – which are fairly slow, though well-maintained – and this one is completely gone.

We practically _swoop_ into the air as the elevator takes us about a third of the way up the tower. I can see the cars below us and some distant mountains on the horizon. I tear my eyes away from the view and follow the others down a corridor. There's only two doors, facing each other, at the end of the hallway.

Rhea says, "Here's your rooms! Just be awake in time for breakfast and then we'll get you off to the Remake Center as quickly as possible. I've got to start lining up some sponsors, now that they've seen your Reaping and that news snippet about you two."

Brutus, Lyme and Rhea all say their goodnights to us. I guess they're off to talk strategy, or go to sleep themselves, or who knows what.

Adria says, "So. Which room do you want?"

I shrug. "Does it matter?"

"Not really. I'll take this one behind me."

"Okay. They're bound to be the same, anyway, aren't they?"

Adria snaps her fingers. "Check the clothes. If they're wrong, we'll swap."

However, when I go to the clothes closet, I see a video panel where I can pick any kind of clothing I want. Guess that solves the clothes issue, then.

I step back into the hallway. Adria's stepping out as well. I say, "There's no clothes problem, that's for sure. Adria, I have _never_ seen anything like this."

She nods. "I'll say. Anyway, I'm a little more interested in my bed. See you in a few hours."

The bed in my room is even better than the train's. As I snuggle under the covers, I think that I wouldn't mind sleeping in this room forever if I ever had the chance.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the excellent beta work. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 7

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

The next morning, I wake up and see sunlight streaming under the drapes covering the windows in the room. The bed is really comfortable. It's warm and today's the kind of morning when you don't want to get up, you'd just rather lie in bed all day doing nothing. Not that that ever really happened, as Mom or Dad would be banging on the door to be sure I was awake.

I throw the covers off of me and go to open the drapes. The view through the large floor-to-ceiling window takes my breath away. The Capitol in its shining glory is laid out before me. I can see the mountains in the distance, and am reminded of how the Capitol, high up in the mountains of Panem, looks upon the Districts and watches over us all.

There's a button set into the windowsill with a plate beside it that reads PRESS TO ACTIVATE CONSOLE.

I press it, and a hologram pops into being, overlaying the window. I step back, startled, then remember they used something like this at the CEC to display projections of the arenas, so trainers like Brutus could discuss strategies and tactics. He could touch a tribute's image and make it stand out in red, then we could zoom out and follow the red blob as it made its away into a trap.

The hologram's display reads ZOOM along the left side of the window nearest the wall, and I press my finger to the circle marked with a + symbol.

Quickly, I learn how to zoom in on any part of the view before me, and the detail is amazing. I can follow a woman as she leaves a shop and walks to her fancy hovercar, then follow the hovercar, still zoomed in, as it rises into the air. A distance meter informs me that she is, in reality, at least a kilometer away.

A knock at the door yanks me out of my adventures with the window. I'm only in shorts, so I open the door a little bit to see who's there. It's just Adria, so I open the door a bit more and say, "Hey. Give me a minute, okay? I got wrapped up in playing with the window."

Sardonically, she says, "I'm surprised you haven't played with the clothes thing yet. You ever see anything like what I'm wearing now?"

I do a double take as I see she's modified her outfit from yesterday. She's not wearing the suit jacket and she's wearing a sleeveless pink shirt instead of the white shirt. The rest is the same, though.

I say, "Not in that exact combination, no."

"Try it. Anyway, I'll see you at breakfast. It's at the other end of the hall. I didn't notice the door at that other end last night; did you?"

I shake my head.

Adria shrugs and points. If we keep going past the elevator, we'll end up at another door. I assume that's the way into the dining room.

I nod at her, then close my door and then head over to the bathroom. Once inside it, the sheer luxury of it amazes me. Whatever I saw on the train was just the basic model.

The combination shower and bathtub has a whole wall panel devoted to anything I could possibly think of – water massage, scented soaps, you name it.

After I finish a shower which leaves me smelling a bit like a flower, I step onto the now-familiar rough pad to let hot air dry me off, then use the hand-pad by the sink to dry and comb my hair. I rub the stubble on my chin and wish I could shave, but the stylists can, I assume, do something about that. The bruise is almost gone from my temple, and my eye doesn't look too bad either.

After the final part – brushing my teeth, quickly towelling off any droplets that missed the hot air drying – I decide I might as well be adventurous. The console in the closet lets me pick out a grey collared shirt and dark blue pants. I've seen the Hunger Games reporters wear even stranger color combinations, so this is mild by Capitol standards for mismatched colors.

The door at the other end of the hall opens into a wide, luxurious room with a balcony overlooking the city. The sun's shining brightly through the window, which has turned slightly brown to cut down some of the sunlight. I don't completely understand how it works but I've seen the Justice Building's windows work the same way; in the full summer sun they can turn almost completely dark to cut out a lot of the sunlight.

There's a woman, wearing some kind of tunic, who appears to be a few years older than Adria standing next to a buffet table opposite the windows. It is laden with every kind of breakfast food imaginable. Brutus and Lyme haven't come in yet, so I load up a plate. I decide on the fluffy yellow scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and toast. I also notice a stack of pancakes and, remembering I've only had them once before at one of the Victory Tour celebrations, put a couple on my plate as well.

The woman smiles a bit nervously at me and points to the drinks, set on another table next to the food. I realize, to my surprise, that they have a half dozen different kinds: orange juice, coffee, and so on.

After joining Adria at the table with a cup of Capitol coffee and my breakfast, I take a sip of my drink. I notice she grabbed one jar of orange juice from the long table behind us and is refilling her cup from that jar. I say, "Hey. Like the orange juice, huh?"

She smiles briefly and replies, "I have it every morning for breakfast, because my parents say it gives me energy. This juice is _miles_ ahead of anything they can get, though. And I'm not letting you take this!" She possessively moves the jar away from me.

I chuckle and lift the coffee cup to my lips. Tasting my coffee in completely unadulterated form takes my breath away. I blurt, "I'm _never_ drinking District Two coffee again in my life!"

Adria chuckles at that and sips her orange juice.

When I'm midway through breakfast, Rhea, Brutus and Lyme all enter the room. Lyme says, "Good morning! Did you both sleep well?"

Adria and I nod, and Rhea grins, scuttling over to get coffee while she prattles, "Oh _my_. I stayed up _far_ too late and had to take a stim to stay awake. I think I've had four hours of sleep! But we've already got sponsors, and if things go well—"

She stops, looks at Adria and me, then stares at our outfits and says, "Dears, you have a _long_ way to go yet to match our fashion sense. Your district seems to favor those dreadfully _boring_ greys, whites and blacks. Put some _color_ into your lives, why don't you? At least you're better than Nine, which I had last year. Oh, for Panem's sake, those ridiculous brown outfits left, right, and center. You'd think a dash of pink wouldn't be a problem when hunting!"

As Rhea, currently dressed in some kind of sea-green shirt and skirt plus a purple suit jacket, grabs her own breakfast, I see Brutus's expression take on the kind of look my mother has when she's trying not to roll her eyes at me because I didn't match my rope climbing results from last time.

His expression clears when Rhea sits at our table, and he says calmly, "After breakfast we'll get you to the Remake Center, which you can just see from the window." He points almost straight along the street which, I realize, was the one we were on when we arrived in the car. Judging by the position of the sun, that direction is south of here.

Lyme says, "Let's start with some basic strategy. The Games are as much mental as physical, as you already know. Adria, how's your leg? Aurelius, your eye looks good now."

Adria says, "Seems all right. The limp's almost gone."

"Good. Now, I think most of the closer Districts have put their tributes up here as well; all of the tributes will be here after tonight. If you see anyone in the elevator, give nothing away. If they speak first, then respond. Same goes for the Remake Center. If you meet anyone there, give as little away as possible. At least a few of them will be doing the same in reverse, since what matters is hiding your weaknesses and showing your strengths."

Brutus chimes in, saying, "Now, your stylists are going to do a fair bit of work on you for the chariot rides tonight, so cooperate with them. You've seen what happens when stylists don't bother to help their Districts out; they don't get many sponsors and when they do, the sponsors practically _never_ consent to be interviewed."

Now that I think about it, when I've watched the Games (including the run-up such as the chariots and the frenzy in the Capitol over them) – which are practically the only holiday we get from training – the wealthy, well-dressed sponsors who come onto those television shows _always_ say, "Well, I've decided to sponsor Rippel from District Four, because…" and they recite a few reasons. Usually they pick a lower-numbered district, and most often One, Two or Four.

I turn this over in my head as I get up for more coffee, remembering that a few years ago there _was_ one person who said they'd sponsor someone from Nine, and that was because the girl was seventeen or eighteen and had a nice singing voice.

As I seat myself back at the table, Adria says, "Rhea? How do you get the time in the bedroom? There's no clock."

Rhea looks a little startled, then says while waving her toast in dismissal, "Oh, that's simple! Just pick channel zero on the television. Always shows the weather and current time."

Adria lifts her eyebrow and silently finishes her breakfast of poached eggs, ham and toast. Meanwhile, I start on the pancakes and am momentarily startled by the explosion of fruit flavors. I wash it all down with my second cup of coffee.

Rhea beams at us, noticing me rubbing my stomach, and says, "No seconds? We have blueberry soup, you know. And I always say there's always room for one more hard-boiled egg!"

The breakfast was pretty filling, by comparison to what I have back home: one bowl of oatmeal with skim milk. Also, I've already inhaled two cups of coffee. Adria's rubbing her stomach as well. She's polished off at least three glasses of orange juice in addition to what was on her plate.

Feeling this full is a little uncomfortable, actually. I'll have to try and burn off this energy in training.

"Well then," Rhea says, "we may as well get you to the Remake Center now." She checks her watch. "Good. It's almost eleven. Plenty of time. Got to go to the Liaison Lunch and see what the others are up to! Oh, and Brutus, Lyme, here's a list of the sponsors you need to sign off on."

She shoves an electronic pad over to them, then stands up and says, "Adria and Aurelius, I'll take you down to the car. I have to get off about half-way for the lunch, so I may as well hunt two birds with one arrow, as they say in District Nine, you know."

Rhea giggles at her own joke, while I give Adria a slightly mystified look. As Rhea bustles over to the door, Adria shrugs back at me. Brutus and Lyme are busy looking at the pad and barely notice as we leave.

The elevator trip down is just as fast as the trip up, swooping down below ground level to drop us off in the large garage. A ground-car is waiting for us, and after I'm seated in the back with Adria and Rhea, we're riding through the bright Capitol, shining under the daylight and a bright blue sky.

It's no less impressive than at night, with people wearing every color possible walking everywhere, and brightly-colored ground-cars and hovercars flitting to and fro.

We pause at a glitzy silver-colored building to drop off Rhea, who beams again and says, "This will be _so_ much fun! Capitol escort for Two! You watch, I'll get us even more sponsors!"

I'm gathering that her promotion must have been a pretty big event for her. We continue on to the Remake Center, entering a large cavernous room filled with horses. I realize this is where we'll be when we get ready for the chariot rides and a thrill of excitement shoots through me as I try to remember to keep my Success Mask on. I can see Adria's expression also becoming blank as we walk to an elevator door.

It's time for us to experience a Capitol makeover first-hand.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9**, who kindly betaed this for me earlier today. :) "Rippel" is the name of a tribute I saw in an SYOT fic. If this one happens to be yours, let me know and I'll credit you. The District Nne girl with a singing voice was inspired by Chrissy, the Victor of the 55th Games in _Flight of a Broken Mockingjay_ by EvanescingSky.


	8. Chapter 8

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 8

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

Adria and I are separated on the Remake level; I end up in a room which has what looks like a medical bed plus several countertops against the walls, all of which have supplies and equipment for what the remake process must be. There are three people are standing in the room wearing colorful clothes which clash. Quite badly.

"I'm Frieda!" chirps the purple-clad, purple-haired one.

"And I'm Eris!" says the yellow-shirted, rainbow-panted, blue-haired one as she beams brightly at me.

"And finally, I'm Terus!" booms the tall, skinny green-skinned, black-haired, black-clothed guy.

Frieda comes up to me, then taps her fingers against her chin and says, "Okay, first things first. Eris, get him the shaver."

I'm handed a black device that looks a bit like the shears Dad uses to give me a close crewcut when summertime comes. Eris shows me how to turn it on, and shoves a mirror at me. Quickly, I figure out how to shave my face and neck, and I hand the mirror and shaver back to her, and she puts them back in the correct drawer.

Frieda barks, "Okay! Get the prep ready for Beauty Base Zero. You – what's your name, again?"

I blink, then realize she's talking to me. "I'm Aurelius."

"Okay. Aurelius, get your clothes off and when you've done that, go into that tank there, with the foamy liquid."

A bit hesitantly, I strip my clothes off. Frieda snaps her fingers impatiently and says, "Yes, get your undies off, too. We haven't got all day!"

Swiftly I get out of everything and ascend the stairs to the tank. As I step in, I notice the foam is a kind of gritty liquid that sticks to me. I sink all the way in, letting it cover me right up to my head. A pleased yell causes me to stand up, and Terus says, "Good! Hop back out and we'll begin scrubbing!"

I stand in the indicated spot, which is a square indented slightly into the floor with a drain so the liquid won't make a mess.

And with that began several hours of stuff I've never imagined a guy would need doing – my skin being scrubbed so well it almost shines, then having me lie on the bed while they use a kind of wax and sticky strips of paper to take off the hair on my body, though as Eris delightedly says, "You're better off than some of the boys we've had come through here! It's mostly your legs and underarms, you know."

_Uh, thanks_, I mentally reply as I brace myself for the last strip, which is shortly yanked off, causing me to grit my teeth. After that, another trip through the foamy stuff and a re-scrubbing to get any wax traces off.

I'm hustled into a shower for a final rinse which leaves me smelling like applesauce, after which I put a robe on and sit at a table. Opposite me, the prep team all intently focus on my fingernails and toenails. They say this is a "manicure". After they're done, I notice my nails are perfect curves, and they shine under the light. I get told, a bit patronizingly, that this was fairly easy this year compared to last year; last year's male tribute had a habit of biting his nails.

Now they need to do something about my hair, apparently. The trio put their heads together for a moment, then they all turn to me in unison. I smile nervously and say, "Um… so what did you decide?"

Frieda grins and says, "Spike cut!"

My dad cut my hair back in about April or May, so it's had time to grow out enough to be, as Frieda says, "the perfect length" for some restyling as I'm told to move my chair away from the nail-manicure table so they can surround me with scissors and other hair-cutting implements.

The result is rather bizarre, at least for District Two. I've had my hair on the top part of my head gelled and then formed into spikes, while the sides and back have been close-cropped. I look in the mirror and hesitantly touch one of the hair-spikes, which actually feels solid enough to be a real spike.

Meanwhile, the prep team people examine me critically, apparently deciding they've had enough of preparing me. Eris rushes out and comes back with a woman dressed from head to toe in the most shocking pink colors I've ever seen. I think even her eyelids have pink makeup on them. She's vaguely familiar; she must be the same stylist who's been interviewed in the past when there's a focus on the District Two tributes.

She grins widely and says, "Hi! I'm Jovia! Your prep team's done an _excellent_ job, I must say. Now, Eris, Terus and Frieda, will you come back in a while? It's well past lunch time, anyway."

All three members of the team hurriedly dash out the door, leaving just us. Jovia says, "Okay, robe off."

Reluctantly, I put the robe on the chair I was using for my nail prep, and stand there waiting for Jovia to finish looking me all over. To be honest, it's not quite creepy, but it's getting there.

She nods to herself and excitedly waves her hands as she begins discussing the costume. "Now, you're from District Two and that says rocks. Lots of rocks, right? Now I know it must be a bit boring having to smash rocks all day or whatever it is you do, but rest assured when I get through with you, the people watching you on the chariot would probably pay money to see you smash a rock!"

I just nod, not sure if I really need to say much as she directs me to take my robe and follow her into the sitting room, which has windows along one wall, letting in some natural light.

This cues her to babble on about this new shade of chalky-white paint which, she says, will be _much_ better than plain old slate grey and which will show me off—

I blurt, "Wait, last year you put the guy in a toga with a sledgehammer. But you're saying I'm gonna have no shirt at all? In front of all those people?"

Jovia stares at me incredulously. "Dear, whatever would make you think I'm going to do a Sejanus and do the same old thing like he does with those same boring _trees_ for District Seven every year? Good grief, I'd just _die_ if I didn't get to do a new outfit every year! Besides, your muscles are quite impressive, if I do say so myself. Oh, and you can put your robe back on."

I suppose I _should_ be thankful I'm not from District Seven. I just nod, put my robe on, and let her continue babbling about whether I should wear board shorts or shorter shorts. I ask for the board shorts, as that way at least more of me will be insulated from the crowd.

Jovia beams and punches a button on the wall. A few seconds later an entire fruit basket pops into a slot below the button, and she offers me an apple, which I accept. She gestures me to an armchair next to the couch she sits on and says, "Go ahead, take a load off! We'll get you ready pretty quickly now that I know what I want to do with you! Don't worry, this year I threatened Varius to make you and your Districtmate match colors."

I'm curious. Usually they interview Jovia, but not this Varius guy. As I sit down I say, "Who's he?"

"Oh, Varius. He comes up with some _brilliant_ outfits, I must say that. But I _swear_ he grew up mumbling from the day he was born. My goodness, half the time I worry that he's propositioning me with the way he stares at my feet so intently when he mutters!"

Jovia continues talking and I listen with half an ear as I eat my apple. It seems she's fascinated with the idea of rocks and that's why, even though they offered her District One, she wants to keep doing the clothes and such for Two.

For the first time, I start to understand the meaning of talking someone else's ear off, because by the time the prep team returns, my ear really does feel like it's going to fall off from Jovia's babbling.

Maybe it would have been better to get Varius the Mumbler. I'd still have ended up feeling like fine sandpaper was rubbed all over me, but my ear would feel better.

Speaking of Jovia, she bounces to her feet, looks at the prep team, and says, "Excellent! Get the powdery white makeup. Leave his hair alone, it's naturally a bright enough blond for the effect we want. Do the rest of him, and I'll make sure he's color-coordinated with the clothes I want him in." She claps once, and everybody except me becomes a blur of motion.

I'm told to go back into the prep room, remove my robe again, and stand in the open area between the medical bed and the little table. With three people all putting waterproof makeup (so if I sweat, they say, it won't wreck the stuff) on my body it goes fast. Practically every part of me is painted this almost-sparkly white color. Jovia hands me my board shorts, which are white except for a gold trim around the waist, then she guides me to the full-length mirror after I put them on.

Back home, they taught us something about the various materials we produce for the Capitol, such as limestone, clay, gypsum and so on. I remember those and can't decide if I look like a blond-haired ghost or an attempt at a limestone cliff face.

Jovia snaps her fingers. "The sandals! Almost forgot!"

I'm given a pair of completely white sandals which fit snugly on my feet. I sigh nervously and decide to treat the upcoming chariot ride as a test of my ability to keep calm in unfamiliar surroundings. That, after all, is one key factor in winning the Games – every year the arena's something different, be it a little or a lot and no amount of preparation can take the place of being adaptable.

Frieda grins widely and says, "Doesn't he just look great?"

The prep team's running their hands all over me, but I get the impression it's more of an admire-the-work thing than any expression of actual interest. I run my fingers over my arm and feel the oddly smooth texture of the makeup. Terus seems to realize my concern and says, "Don't worry. It's designed to break down after about two or three hours. Long enough to get you through the chariots and back to the Training Center. Then a good hot shower should take care of it."

Jovia says, "Indeed. We will be meeting you back at the Training Center anyway if you need help getting the makeup off. Your mentor can call me if it doesn't all degrade by breakfast tomorrow. After all, it won't do to go to your interviews looking like that, now will it?"

Then she beams widely again, saying, "Let's get you meeting with your Districtmate and off to the chariots, hmm?"

When I meet Adria in the wide hallway, the elusive Varius is nowhere to be seen. Jovia notices this too and sighs. "I swear, we'd long since have gotten a less antisocial stylist if he wasn't just _brilliant_. Look at you, sweetie!"

I blink and give Adria a second look, really taking in her appearance this time. Her hair has been cut to a length just below her ears, and there's a part in her hair which let the stylist sweep it over her head, just touching her eye, but allowing her unobstructed vision. She's been painted the same white color as me, and has been given a white halter top with black trim around the part which encircles her neck. She's also wearing small white shorts that show most of her legs. She's wearing tight white boots that come up about two-thirds of the way to her knees.

It strikes me that she's attractive – and deadly. Her face is devoid of expression, and I could believe that this otherworldly woman walks through the night in the forests, slaying unsuspecting people who aren't smart enough to stay in well-lit areas.

She's been regarding me, though apparently less openly. As I remember to put my Success Mask expression in place, she nods once at me in approval.

Jovia's apparently gotten tired of hoping Varius will show up, and drags Adria's prep team, my prep team, and us two down to the cavernous stable level. Our horses are a dapple grey in color, and the chariot closely matches it. All we've got to do is stand on the thing and hold the hand-grips to keep from falling off as we ride down the street.

Amid the babbling and general confusion of tributes, prep teams, and the occasional noise made by a horse, I say to Adria, "How was your stylist? Jovia talked a _lot_."

She rolls her eyes. "Varius just mumbled at me all the time. I ended up just standing there while he tugged at my hair, examined my fingernails like they were diamonds and I have no idea why he shoved the halter top and shorts at me, but he seemed satisfied. My prep team did almost all the work on me."

Jovia's off talking to another stylist, and while she's distracted the ruby and amethyst clad District One tributes come over to us. Adria and I regard them with blank expressions.

The boy is about my age, but has an arrogant look on his face. I've only ever seen that look on the Careers, like Caius, who make a habit of bullying others. Instinctively, I know to watch out for him. He's pretty muscular, but not as built as me. I'd say he's probably Adria's height.

The girl looks like she's Adria's age and height as well, and has a slightly guarded expression. Out the corner of my eye, I see Adria assessing her.

"Hey, District Two and District Two. Got names?" says the boy, smirking.

Stiffly, I say, "Aurelius."

Adria follows with her first name, just as stiffly. Then she sneers and says, "So should I call you two 'District One and District One' now?"

I want to laugh, but restrain myself. Success Masks are everything.

The boy seems a bit stung, but growls, "Peer."

The girl says, "Bell," then tosses her hair nonchalantly over her shoulder.

The stylist and prep team for One suddenly flutter about in a frenzy, signaling that we're about to start moving out. Peer and Bell move off to get on their chariot, while Adria and I are ready to go on ours.

It's time to be the center of attention for all of Panem.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work, particularly on recommending the proper name for the shade of grey the horses have. :)


	9. Chapter 9

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 9

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

Jovia quickly arranges Adria and me on the chariot, instructing us to stand ramrod straight and not to smile or show any emotion. Considering that it's a good way to unnerve someone, I can't find fault with that strategy.

I'm standing on the left side of the chariot, holding the hand-grip as our well-trained horses trot out of the stables, go up a gentle ramp, and then we emerge to an explosion of yells and cheers of "District Two!" My momentary surprise is wiped off my face as I work to keep my Success Mask expression. I remember again my intention to treat this as a situation I have to adapt to by giving as little away as possible.

I breathe as steadily as I can in and out of my nose, trying to will my heartbeat to slow down.

There are girls waving signs which read "WE LOVE YOU AURELIUS!" - this nearly makes me lift my eyebrows. I look to my right, seeing Adria looking over the crowd, and to my left, seeing throngs of ecstatic people waving their arms, some throwing roses and confetti, and others hopping in sheer joy.

I notice a guy my age staring at me almost worshipfully as he throws a rose. I look directly at him, catching his eye. I point, nod, then wave briefly. He stands stock-still for several moments, then seems to come back to himself when a girl next to him thumps his shoulder and begins cheering loudly for us as well.

About thirty meters ahead are the District One tributes, Peer and Bell. Their gem-clad bodies twinkle brightly in the gathering twilight as the streetlights shine down steadily.

I look up and see large television screens mounted at intervals all along the street we'll be riding along. The screen nearest to us is showing Peer smiling arrogantly at the crowd; a few seconds later, it switches to us.

Adria and I look like marble statues. On the outside, we've been transformed into godlike beings, our jaws set in determination as we stare out at the mass of humanity, ready to cast judgement upon them. On the inside, I'm amazed and impressed. All of a sudden, last year's District Two tribute, Florus, suddenly becomes a ridiculous caricature in my mind's eye as I compare him to me. I start to feel less self-conscious about being so exposed to the Capitol.

Jovia was definitely right about going shirtless. The Capitol's people who clearly are attracted to us have been cheering at such a volume it's almost a continuous roar, and I've lost count of how many times a rose has landed on me or Adria, or even just hit the chariot. I try to acknowledge them all in a detached fashion, but still, for every one person I nod and wave briefly at, there are at least twenty more frantically blowing kisses, wishing I was nodding at them too.

It's like this the rest of the way as the horses keep their steady trot, pulling us along the road. I try to make sure not to look at Adria too often, since we're supposed to be keeping it somewhat ambiguous about how closely (or not) we'll be working together, given the way we 'mixed it up' on the train.

Finally, however, we take our place opposite the President's mansion, and I quickly lick my lips at my slight nervousness at being so near the man who has given us everything we have in District Two, and to whom we have the honor of demonstrating District Two's worthiness in the Hunger Games.

As the official welcome proceeds, I see, on a building to the right, a television screen I can look at without appearing to be ignoring the President. The faces of the other tributes of Panem come up, and I try to note which ones seem unusually nervous. They'll be the ones to go first at the bloodbath, I suspect.

Finally, the anthem plays and I stand just a bit straighter, my eyes directly on the President on the mansion's balcony. From this distance he seems so small for such a great office. He spoke of the honor of the Games, and the glory of showing the very best one's District had to offer.

It's almost as though he was speaking to my own desire to win the Hunger Games.

All this runs through my mind as the anthem stops, letting us slowly go back around the City Circle and into the Training Center.

After we pass through the wide doors and into the well-lit entrance level, the prep teams for each of us rush up and help us off the chariot as they gush about how our white makeup showed so clearly against the night, and how the lights made us look like white marble, and other things like that. I'm just relieved to be able to flex my legs a bit and rub my knees. Standing in one position for what must have been over an hour has caught up with me.

Adria and I walk stiffly to the elevator, and while we wait we're joined by some other tributes; two of them are wearing mismatched clothes and the other two are coal miners. _Great_. That says Eight and Twelve.

We all get onto the elevator, pressing the buttons for our respective floors.

A wicked idea enters my head and I stare directly into the eyes of the boy from District Twelve. Adria catches on, and stares at the girl.

The elevator doors close, and at that moment, I see the boy's neck muscles tighten as he swallows nervously and drops his gaze. His hand shakes as he grabs onto the girl's shoulder. She's quivering all over as she reaches around the boy's waist to hold them closer together.

The boy from Eight looks like he wants to say something; he's not that much shorter than me, so he's probably fifteen or sixteen. However, he's got almost no muscles worth noticing. I turn to him and say, "Problem, _District Eight_?"

I step closer to the guy, whose jaw quivers as he backs up against the glass wall.

I really have to thank that arrogant jerk Peer for a good verbal sparring trick.

The elevator stops at floor two, and I sweep a menacing glance around at the four tributes before I step off with Adria.

After we're at the doors for our rooms, Adria smirks. "That was _fun_. You watch. Those ones'll all fly away from the Cornucopia as though a Peacekeeper were after them."

"I bet," I reply. "Anyway, I guess it's time to see if all this washes off, huh?"

/\/\/\

Luckily, the hot water in the shower does the trick. My face in the mirror is still a bit whiter than it normally is, but I kind of like the effect now. I dress, for lack of a better idea, in the same outfit as I came off the train with. I notice another console which is for food and drink, and on a lark, I order some milk to see what will happen.

In less than ten seconds, a glass of milk appears in the chamber below the microphone, and I drink deeply from the glass before putting it on the table beside my bed.

I join Adria, Brutus, Lyme, Rhea and the styling teams in the large dining room on our floor. Jovia's busy chatting with the prep teams over by the large windows. The elusive Varius is nowhere to be found.

The servant in the room is a man this time, though his tunic is similar to the woman's from breakfast. A television has been set up in the room near the windows, which have been darkened against the bright Capitol night lights.

Rhea's ecstatic. She's talking on two telephones at once and tapping away on her datapad at the same time. We must be rolling in the sponsors. She looks up at me, puts a telephone down for a second at the table, beams at me and gives me a thumbs-up gesture. Then she grabs her phone back up and continues babbling.

Adria's sitting on Rhea's right. On Rhea's left, Lyme's sitting close to Brutus, talking to him quietly and reaching for a glass of wine at the table. Brutus sees me and gestures to the servant holding a plate of wine glasses containing the clear liquid. Uncertainly, I walk over, get a glass, and begin bringing it to him. He waves his hand in negation and gestures for me to drink it.

I've never been allowed to have it before, not even at Victory Tour dinners. My parents would allow themselves exactly half a glass each, and no more. Dad would tell me a Peacekeeper has to maintain his reputation, and Mom always had to set an example for people training for the Games.

Alcohol generally is really frowned upon at the CEC. Drusus showed up once with a hangover. He'd gotten his hands on some beer and had several drinks with his girlfriend. As his bad luck had it, he had rope climbing in the morning and my mother caught it. She yelled at him and made him do double training, and then threatened him, in front of all of us, with a week of doubles if he came in hung over again.

I sit down at the table on Adria's right and take a small sip from the glass. The smooth silky flavor of the wine coats my mouth as I swallow it. I'm impressed; no wonder my mentors are now drinking it. I gulp down the rest of the wine in a long swallow, and feel a pleasant warmth in my stomach. Just as I take the glass away from my mouth to put it down, I nearly drop it in shock at seeing Lyme holding hands with Brutus, locking fingers with him.

_Lyme _and_ Brutus?_ Holy smokes. We never saw a hint of _that_ in training, ever!

Adria nudges me with her elbow, surprised as well. I give them a second look, and notice that the stylists must have worked on Brutus and Lyme, too, because Lyme's looking less severe than she usually does, and Brutus could almost pass for a Capitol man the way he's dressed and groomed.

She mutters, "Looks like you're not the only one getting offers from their female counterpart."

Hurriedly, I look around for someone to take my glass away. Adria taps me on the shoulder, looking amused. She hands me her empty glass as well, and I take it and give both to the servant who has his hands free. I wonder why they never talk; maybe they've been told to be absolutely quiet so they don't disturb anyone.

Rhea finally wraps up all her phone conversations, taps her pad, and excitedly blurts, "I've broken my personal record for the most sponsors lined up in a twenty-four hour period! Of course, subject to mentor approval, but none of them complained about having to wait on that."

She shoves her pad over to Lyme, who smiles pleasantly and begins looking through the list, nodding to herself as she scrolls through the monetary offerings and tapping her finger beside the ones she wants to approve.

Jovia, Terus and one of Adria's prep-team people come over to sit at the round table with us. The rest of the prep teams depart, apparently eager to go to a place called Icicle. They wave and blow kisses at me and Adria, forcing a chuckle out of me.

The prep worker who I don't know is on my right. She says, "Hi. I'm Olivia. I wanted to eat dinner and be part of a strategy session; the others have done it all before, so they're off to party and get zonked – sorry, I mean do… y'know."

I nod. "Yeah, I've heard the term. I'm Aurelius."

Conversation ceases as plates of food are served to us by both the man already in the room and the woman from this morning, who has just arrived with a giant cart full of food.

We've been served a meat which looks like chicken, plus several vegetable and fruit sides I don't recognize aside from the mashed potatoes.

Rhea exclaims, "Oh! Ostrich! And elderberries! Oh my _goodness_, they went all out this time. Anyway, dears, you two looked absolutely _fantastic_. I'm just surprised there wasn't an open riot at first!"

I hesitate, but gamely decide to try and see if ostrich is like chicken. As it turns out, it's not bad. I chew it, thankful I don't have to embarrass myself in front of all the Capitol people by spitting it out.

Jovia grins. "High praise, I must say, Rhea! I personally thought that under the outside lights the makeup effect looked _wonderful_. I'm going to do you District Twos like that from now on!"

The conversation ends up being all about how _marvellous_ and _scintillating_ our costumes were, and Terus even jokes that his friend wished he was a few years younger when he saw me. I lift my eyebrow in surprise, but continue on with my mashed potatoes. I'll try the berry-like things next. They can't be any worse than the ostrich, I'm sure.

I pick my way through my plate after liking the sweet and slightly tart taste of the elderberries; however, I can't bring myself to eat the strange pea-like tomatoes, though I can handle the mushrooms that look somewhat larger than they should. The little cheddar cheese blocks have a very strong flavor to them.

After I finish about three-quarters of my plate, the next course is a thick beef and vegetable soup. Luckily, there's still room for the wonderful soup.

My stomach is ready to surrender in defeat when the dessert is brought out afterwards, a large rich-looking chocolate cake which all of us eagerly await as the servant cuts slices and places them on small plates.

I manage a few bites, but I'm going to have to be rolled down the hallway if I keep this up. Olivia grins and says, "No V-juice for you guys in the Districts, huh?"

Rhea perks up and hands Adria and me each a thin vial. "Got some finally! Anyone else need some?"

Brutus startles me out of the slight fogginess I've been feeling by speaking for the first time in a long while. He firmly says, "Give them back to Rhea, you two."

I give Brutus a startled look and move to hand it back to Rhea, who frowns. "What? They need room for more, don't they?"

Lyme joins in, a hint of steel in her voice. "_No_, Rhea. They need the nutrients. Their bodies will need the energy reserves in the Games."

Jovia says, "Oh, for Panem's sake. Give them to me, you both."

Mystified, but happy to be out of Brutus's scrutiny, I hand my vial to Jovia. Adria's looking just as mystified when she hands me hers to pass to Jovia as well.

Rhea says with some embarrassment, "Well, I'm sorry about that, dears. Anyway, we should review your _wonderful_ parade, shouldn't we?"

She grabs a remote control and thumbs the button. The television mounted by the now-dark windows shows news reporters gushing over the chariot rides earlier tonight, and Rhea sets it to display the rides themselves.

For the next half hour, everybody's mesmerized by the tributes, saying things like, "My goodness! Those _gems_ on One!" or "If I hadn't known better, you two, I'd say you two were actual _statues_, you looked that impressive!" or "District Four went for body paint this year, too, it seems. Trajan's decided not to do that stupid dolphin thing again. The sea-green and blue is a nice touch, as is that rather phallic-looking trident."

I cough to cover my slight surprise at people openly discussing things like that with people they're not close friends with.

Everybody agrees, however, that Adria and I got off on the right foot with the Capitol, and Lyme says, "Rhea, how many sponsors do we have now? And do you think we can get more?"

Rhea whistles softly. "We picked up at least ten last night because they _loved_ the idea of imagining two people from the same District fighting it all out at the end, and since then we've managed to reach forty. My best has been twenty over the entire Games period, though that was with District Nine. This assumes you've signed off on all of them by now.

"Judging from those opinion polls I'm seeing up on the screen now, I'd say we're good for at least another ten until the Gamemaker scores and interviews."

I look at the television and notice bars going across the screen. The question running across the top of the screen reads, "Which District was the best-costumed?"

One, Two and Four have a commanding lead over the rest, though apparently the skin-tight crystal-like reflective unitards they gave Five's tributes has pushed them to fourth place.

Rhea mutes the television and says, "So. Strategy. We can't do much about your training since that's for your mentors, but with an eye to the interviews coming up, what should we do here? Jovia?"

"Well, the good reaction to the body makeup Aurelius and Adria wore has placated Varius, so he'll go along with what I suggest. We need to somehow capture that theme in the outfits you two are going to wear, as well as in your interviews themselves. I think you originally wanted to use the outfits you came off the train with?"

I nod in acknowledgement.

Jovia taps the table as she thinks. "We need to differentiate you two since you're not getting along a hundred percent, though I see you two keep getting thrown next to each other."

"This is confidential, but Lyme and I have decided to make them stay allies for now," notes Brutus.

Adria gives me a slightly sour look, which I return. Even so, there's something in her eyes which doesn't quite match her expression, telling me she knows this is all for show.

Terus pipes up, saying, "How about white suits, but with colored accessories?"

Olivia says, "Oh, _please_. The problem with white is that it's too uniform a color. I'd vote a charcoal grey, personally. But I'd keep the hairstyles they had." Absently, Olivia fiddles with my hair, apparently imagining the spiky style I had before I showered.

Lyme says, "Plenty of time to figure that out, yet. But in terms of what you need to know to get them styled and to pull in sponsors, you can be sure we'll emphasize the angle of being smart, strong and aloof."

Jovia smiles. "Good! Okay, Terus – Olivia – let's move out. I've got to start roughing out suits and costumes and things like that and I'm sure you two want to hit Icicle now with the rest. And Aurelius – Adria – good work! You've given me _such_ the boost as a stylist!"

Adria nods politely and says, "Pleased to help. You've helped us, too, if those sponsors are any indication."

She giggles. "Just keep wearing what we tell you to wear and we'll have you ready to go in no time. See you all later."

Jovia and the prep team people swiftly exit the dining area, leaving us.

Rhea says quickly to Lyme and Brutus, "Speaking of sponsors, can you meet them tomorrow while Aurelius and Adria are training?"

They both nod rapidly in acknowledgement, then relax in their chairs as Lyme runs her finger along Brutus's palm.

Brutus says, "All right. I didn't want to discuss training details with too many ears in the room. The more people who hear something, the less secret it gets. Now, given that you're going to follow the basic strategy of meeting with the tributes from One and Four, I strongly suggest showing what you're capable of – with a couple of exceptions. First, pick one weapon you've trained on, and practice that more than anything else. The idea here is to make people assume you've been trained to specialize in a certain weapon, rather than to give you more general training."

I pipe up, saying, "But Brutus, isn't it true we end up sort of specializing anyway? I'm good with flails, and Adria's great with swords."

"True, but _you_ know that and nobody else does. So I suggest picking something like knives, or perhaps staves."

Rhea's getting bored. She bustles over to a table in the corner, which has coffee, tea and other labelled drink containers. While she's clinking away with her cup, Brutus gives us both a very searching, intense look and points with his thumb to the ceiling. Lyme leans over and whispers, "Don't talk about anything important unless you're on the roof!"

Would other people _really_ spy on us?

The question answers itself: I've heard stories every now and then from Capitol-born Peacekeepers about the intense gambling on the Hunger Games. All kinds of official and unofficial bookmakers pour out like limestone out of a good quarry, giving odds on the favored tributes. Apparently the Capitol had to regulate the gambling, and set maximum odds that a bookmaker can legally set, to avoid people being murdered over gambling payouts. The more illegal the gambling, the higher the odds. Legal gambling requires the bookmaker to show that he or she can cover all bets with matching amounts of their own money, as well.

Dad would always frown in disapproval at hearing such stories and say, "Aurelius, if you ever do anything so decadent, I'll belt you. Understand me?"

It only takes getting that leather strap once across your back to remember it for a long time afterwards.

But back to spying. Someone desperate to get an edge over other gamblers might try to listen in on what tributes are doing; what two tributes do or don't say to each other could give someone an edge in the betting.

Brutus continues. "Second, take a couple of moments to do the non-weapons training. Mostly, get a feel for how the other District tributes are with their skills in those areas. If any of them stand out you need to either pull them into the Career Pack, or get rid of them first. You follow me here?"

I nod, seeing no flaws in the advice I'm being given.

Rhea's back with her coffee. She notices a message on her phone and begins reading it. Brutus takes his cue from that and says, "Okay. You're done. Go to bed, both of you, and we'll take up any last-minute things at breakfast before training."

I say, "Thank you. For all the advice."

Lyme waves her hand dismissively. "Just keep following it. All right?"

I nod. "Mm-hmm."

Adria says, "I will."

Lyme says to Rhea, "I think Brutus and I will leave, too. If you need us you know where to reach the room."

Her smile to Brutus is the first really unguarded smile I've ever seen. Uncomfortable with that display between my mentors, I sketch a wave and quickly leave the room. Adria's behind me as we make our way to our bedrooms. At the door, she looks at me and beckons me closer. In my ear, she whispers, "Brutus and Lyme, huh? I never knew."

I chuckle. "Me neither." Remembering that odd exchange between Rhea and our mentors, I say, "Adria? What _was_ that 'V-juice' stuff all about, anyway?"

She's as perplexed as I am. "All I know is she said 'room for more'."

"I feel like I should know what it is, but maybe it's the wine slowing my brain down. Anyway, see you tomorrow?"

Adria nods. "Yeah, I can feel the wine too. And Aurelius?"

I look at her quizzically. She grins and kisses me on the cheek. Startled, I put my hand to where her lips had been just a moment ago. Softly, she says into my ear, "That's a reminder that our protestations to the contrary in front of the stylists, I wouldn't be keeping that offer open if I really disliked you."

I mumble, "Well, I'll think about it, okay?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "Your choice. See you tomorrow."

With that, I turn and go into my bedroom, hearing the click of Adria's door shutting before I close mine.

I wonder what Tarsus would say if he knew about this.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work!


	10. Chapter 10

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 10

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

I wake up the next morning, and while in the shower I think again about Tarsus. I've never seriously considered anyone else, but we did have an indirect talk about it once.

He had said, "Aurelius, you know they won't like seeing us two living together without wives and kids if we're not Victors."

Exasperatedly, I replied, "So we'll just get houses side by side or something. I'd probably have to marry someone out of the CEC anyway. Drusus's girlfriend at the Academy is an exception."

Tarsus had finished by saying, "Look, people overlook a lot in Careers training for the Games. But they'll overlook less when we're out of training. I don't mind having to … y'know, share you … when that has to happen."

As I towel myself off, I muse that Tarsus's ability to not hold a grudge really helped him. I'm not even sure how I would react seeing someone else kiss him. Would I be jealous? Resigned? I'd only know when it finally happens.

But I do know it means he probably would have been okay with Adria Adrastea's offer. After all, Tarsus isn't with me now. The novelty of the Capitol is slowly starting to wear off, and my focus is turning to other things.

There's training today, though, and Brutus and Lyme will want me to concentrate on that. When I step out of the shower I see that an outfit has been laid out for me on the bed. A folded note is on top, which reads:

"_Wear this to training. – Brutus"_

It's a slate-grey tank top, shorts and shoes: a typical all-purpose training outfit. It's not lost on me, though, that the tank top is skin-tight and shows off my chest and arm muscles. The shoes are good-quality running shoes.

To my surprise, as I'm about to head out the door, the man who served me wine last night is coming into the room. He gives me a nervous look, then slides past me to look around the room. Seeing my clothes from last night strewn on the floor, he picks them up and disappears back down the hallway and into the elevator before I even have time to ask what he's doing.

I shrug and go to the dining room. The servant woman's there again, and the tables are laden with breakfast foods. I decide to keep it light for training and only take scrambled eggs and toast, plus some coffee.

The sun's just starting to rise when Adria comes in, yawning. She's in a T-shirt and shorts, and her hair's brushed back instead of in a more elaborate style. She nods at me and gets her breakfast.

Shortly after that, Brutus and Lyme enter briskly, and in businesslike tones they bid us good mornings and get breakfast. Lyme decides on a strange mix of grain and stew, while Brutus takes some bread rolls.

In between bites, Lyme says, "Those outfits will be what you'll wear throughout training, so don't get any food on them. Now, there's something very important you two need to remember: do not, under any circumstances, tell _anyone_ that District Two provides Peacekeepers. It's not something the Capitol wants generally known. Understand?"

I nod affirmatively and see Adria doing the same.

Brutus says, "As far as training goes, one thing you both need to do is assess your fellow tributes. Report back to us on your observations: are they generally unusually intelligent? Are they versatile with many different skills? Or are they largely average with a limited repertoire? These factors will guide us in deciding how to win the psychological edge against the other tributes. Additionally, assess their physical skills: are your fellow tributes stronger or weaker than you? We'll do the initial post-mortem after training, and go from there."

"Training won't start until ten A.M., anyway," says Lyme. "So take your time if you want, or you can go back to your rooms, or you can go downstairs now to meet your fellow tributes. That said—"

She looks for the remote control; the television's still in the room. She hits channel zero and notes the time: 07:15.

"It's probably too early yet, so I suggest going downstairs between eight and nine. Start getting to know the tributes from Districts One and Four," suggests Lyme.

I eat the last of my breakfast and finish my cup of coffee. I hesitantly say, "Brutus? What was that stuff Rhea tried to give us? I know it's probably out of line to ask—"

He cuts me off, saying, "One of you would have ended up asking. While we are much like the Capitol in some ways, there are, as you've discovered, some major differences as well. One of them is in food consumption habits. Let's just say that purging your stomach can be routine when large quantities are eaten, rather than only strictly ordered by doctors when medical emergencies call for it."

Adria's jaw drops in surprise, and I lean back in my chair in shock. I blurt, "Why would we eat all this delicious food and then… do _that_?" It's positively revolting.

Lyme gives me a warning look that makes me sit up straight and swallow nervously. I look down at the table, waiting for her to yell at me.

Lyme only says, "Aurelius, Adria, look at me." After I look at her face, she continues with the same steel in her voice that she used with Rhea. "You two have come here because there is no greater honor than to show that you can kill other people who are weaker than you. There is no greater honor than showing that District Two is the strongest and most capable of all. Never lose sight of that and do _not_ question the Capitol again. It's not our place to question the Capitol. Ever."

She's right. I babble, "I'm sorry. I…"

"Enough," snaps Brutus. "You're a tribute, Aurelius. Start acting like one, or I'll have a hundred push-ups right now."

I sit up even straighter, putting my Success Mask expression on. In flat tones I reply, "Yes, _sir_."

"All right. Unless you're going to get seconds, I suggest you start getting ready for training. Remember, fighting other tributes is forbidden, so don't waste your energy trying to bait them. They'll be trying to bait you, so don't give them the chance. Understood?"

I nod curtly, then stand and leave for the elevator. Adria joins me and says, "You know, we've got time to look at the roof."

She's right. The time was 07:30 when we left, so there's still lots of time to kill. I regard her intently as I press the call button, but she's got her Success Mask on too.

Nobody else is on the elevator, and when we step out into the domed area protecting us from the outside elements, I'm amazed at the view. Tall spires, blinking lights, hovercars flying everywhere, the mountains on the horizon, even the way the bright blue sky seems subtly different from back home… I've got to see this better.

I step out of the dome and feel the crisp morning breeze. There's a railing that surrounds the roof; Adria joins me to admire the view of part of the City Circle. I marvel, "People look so tiny from up here!"

Adria smiles thinly, and reaches out over the railing, only to jerk back in shock. "Ow! Damn, I didn't think there'd be a force field!"

It makes sense, though; arenas have them, so why not other places? I guess it's to keep us safe. You could fall off by accident, and it's a long way down.

I say, "Hey. Your hand okay?"

Adria extends her hand, and I reach out to inspect it. Her hand seems undamaged from the force field. Suddenly, however, I realize I've been holding her hand longer than needed and abruptly let go. Adria's hand keeps gripping mine. She says in a low voice, "I think we've had enough hemming and hawing here. Me kissing you on the cheek last night might have been the wine talking, but I've thought about it and I probably would have done it eventually. So tell me, Aurelius – are you into me or not? If you are, then I know I haven't wasted my time."

I swallow nervously. "I don't have much experience with girls, but I know I'm interested in them as well as guys. And yeah, I've kinda noticed you're good-looking."

She lets go of my hand and puts her hand on my shoulder. "Glad to know my efforts haven't been wasted." She runs her hand down my arm before reaching up to scratch her head. A slight shiver goes up and down my spine at her touch.

"So, tell me about Aurelius Decker. We've got some time."

I banter back, "Only if I learn about Adria Adrastea."

Her smile's unguarded. "Oh, don't worry. We'll know about each other, all right."

/\/\/\

Adria's got a younger brother, Koen, who's just turned ten. She lives in a different village, so she has to wake up at dawn (or sometimes before dawn) to take the train to the CEC every morning, whereas I have to wake up and walk.

Her mother, Thera, and father, Blasios, are actually cousins and had the same last name. It's not illegal in Panem to marry your cousin, but it's not the norm either. That having been said, some families in Two are closer-knit than others. It does get complicated when she tries to work out if her twenty-year-old cousin Calypso is a first or second cousin.

Her father's a stone quarrier and her mother works in a supply shop for replacement parts for the equipment they use to dig out the stones.

I've told her about myself as well, and she seems to understand when I hesitate a little over Uncle Thasius's condition. He's been allowed to work half-days in the chalk-powdering plant at a job where he doesn't have to move too much, which I explain in low tones.

The sun's higher in the sky now, so we go back to the elevator and wait. She says, "Remember what we have to do around others."

That vague statement reminds me to blank my expression as we get onto the elevator. We stop at the second floor briefly for a quick break. After I exit the bathroom, I check the time on the television set, and I see it's 09:00 now. Excellent.

Afterwards, Adria and I go down to the training level, which is underground. The cavernous gymnasium is impressive; it's a lot like the CEC. I spot weight training equipment, a mock rock-climbing station, and a station bristling with spears and other weapons. I nudge Adria and nod to that station. She gives me a slight nod in acknowledgement.

The _ding_ of the elevator tells us someone else is coming. By mutual accord, I move a half-step away from Adria and stand straight, staring unflinchingly at the new people.

If I remember right, these are the District Four tributes. The guy and girl come over to us and he says, "District Two, right? I'm Chevis Bannon from Four."

His hair's a reddish-brown, he has blue-green eyes, and he has a few freckles on his face. Chevis doesn't quite smile but he's radiating a firm confidence. He's a bit shorter and slimmer than me, but his chest muscles, which I can see outlined by his blue shirt that's just a bit too tight for him, still stand out. He's checking me out as well, and nods approvingly.

The girl says, "I'm Sevan Odell."

I introduce myself, and so does Adria, and we briefly shake hands all around.

Adria's fairly tall, even by District Two standards for women, and I appreciate this when I notice that she's a bit taller than Chevis, who in turn is taller than Sevan. Sevan's also got blue-green eyes, but her hair is a light brown. Like Chevis, she's wearing training shorts, but her outfit is greenish in color. She's balanced on her feet and has the same kind of confident stance Adria has.

Chevis says, "Have you met District One yet?"

Adria rolls her eyes and says, "Don't ask."

Chuckles go around as Sevan says, "We saw them on the chariots. I think I get the idea."

As though our laughter were a signal, the elevator _dings_ again, and out come Peer and Bell. Chevis and Sevan seem to notice the sudden chill as my back stiffens. Peer smirks, saunters up to us and says, "Well, well. We meet again. Peer Faust from District One. What're your names, District Four?"

Stiffly, Chevis and Sevan introduce themselves, leaving Bell to say, "And Bell Drossen, from wherever else but District One?"

Sourly, I think she's smarting off a bit.

Nonetheless, it's Career evaluation time. Now that I can see him up close, I see that I misjudged Peer's height; he's actually a bit taller then Adria. Also, he seems to have had a similar workout regime to me. There's a touch of softness to his face, though, that suggests he's had a bit of an easier diet than would be usual for people training for physical fitness. Bell's the same; there's a touch of delicateness about her that isn't in Sevan, and definitely isn't in Adria.

Peer's got blond hair, like me, but it doesn't look quite right. Remembering advertisements I've seen running during the Hunger Games, I wonder how he has access to hair dye, and then mentally slap myself for forgetting that he's from a district that supplies all sorts of luxuries to the Capitol. Of _course_ he could get hair dye; his district makes it!

Bell's jet-black hair is similarly a bit too unnatural to be truly black, and I suspect hair dye at work there as well. She's lithe and strong, and she's Sevan's height; I realize now they had her in high heels for the chariot rides, which made her look taller.

I say, "Okay. We're all here early for a reason. Do we all want to form an alliance, right now?"

Peer almost looks like he wants to say no, but a sharp jab from Bell makes him sullenly say, "Yes."

The rest of us nod, and by mutual consent, the Career Pack has been formed. Peer proceeds to announce that he's the mayor's son in One, and that his father wants a Victor in the family. Bell flips her hair over her shoulder, crosses her arms, and says, "My parents supply all the varieties of lipstick to the Capitol, so if I'm a Victor, it'll help them enormously."

I really don't want to give up information that could be used against me, but my mentors' admonition about Peacekeepers saves me – I can lie about my origins and lay it on thick. "My parents are both dirt-broke stone quarriers. They want a Victor so they don't have to work again."

It's worth it to see the look on Peer's face like a disgusting odor just hit his nose. Chevis looks sympathetic, while Sevan and Bell have neutral expressions.

Adria proudly says, "Same for my parents." To Bell, she says, "They don't waste time putting women in dainty jobs in Two, you know."

It is actually true that some very strong women work in the quarries, but it's largely a man's job just because it's backbreaking labor.

Bell, for her part, tugs at her form-fitting red gymnasium outfit, and I can't help but notice the way it emphasizes her chest. She catches my eyes, then Chevis's, and just a hint of a smile crosses her face.

This could get bad, if she's decided to try playing male favorites in the alliance. I remember how the District One winner of the 58th Games had a small affair going with the District Four guy, and when her male counterpart from One found out, she set them against each other.

And in fairness, I've seen guys pull the same thing between girls of different districts. It's actually statistically likely, Brutus pointed out once, that under the pressure of the Games, people will form these kinds of attachments across districts and that we need to be careful not to let it happen to us. If Adria and I hadn't been secretly getting along well already…

Chevis rounds things out by saying he's the son of a man who owns a fishing boat, while Sevan's the daughter of the owner of District Four's caviar processing plant.

Further small talk reveals our ages: Peer's 17, Bell's 16, while Sevan is 18 and Chevis is 15.

Peer then arrogantly sniffs that he's had caviar. I try to keep my expression neutral, though my mind is racing, trying to figure out what it even looks like.

Sevan mockingly says, "Yes, but I get it _fresh_, not canned like yours."

"And do you get it served by an Avox?" says Peer in that voice which makes me want to deck him.

I frown, looking at him. Before I can wipe that expression, he looks at me and says in mock surprise, "Oh, they don't have them in the quarries, do they?" Patronizingly, he explains, "They're special servants; their tongues have been cut out, so there's no way for them to repeat anything you say to anyone else."

I look around, and the rest of us (except Bell) seem to be processing this information. It's possible that Chevis and Sevan learned this elsewhere, though, so I don't necessarily assume this is new for them.

Peer twists the knife as he says, "You must be _really_ stupid to not know what an Avox is, District Two. Do they dose you up with morphling so you can smash rocks all day without needing your brain?" He mock-drools, miming using a pick to yank limestone pieces out of a mountain face.

My fists clench and my eyes narrow. _I must not kill Peer Faust._

_I must not strangle this arrogant bastard who's just mocked me and is making me see red._

The _ding_ of the elevator distracts me and makes the red haze go away. As the others are also distracted, they don't notice Adria quickly squeezing my elbow and giving me a warning expression. I realize my jaw's clenched, and that Peer must have seen it. _Shit!_ Brutus even warned me about this, damn it.

I relax, and she nods slightly to indicate my Success Mask has gone back in place.

Other tributes begin filtering in, and we Careers begin opening into a semicircle. Now that I know what an Avox is, I know why the servants never speak. What must have they done to have such a gruesome thing happen to them?

My thoughts on the matter are shoved aside as some people with shirts reading TRAINER on them walk around, putting numbers on our backs.

I begin examining the other tributes. As I survey them, my confidence increases. Only a few seem as strong as any of us in the Career Pack. However, Brutus's warning about District Three reminds me to keep an eye out for him.

I recognize the guy from Eight standing next to me and looking very nervous. He's in a training outfit that's been designed to try and hide his relative lack of muscle, but it's still obvious I outweigh him. He glares at me, and when my expression doesn't change, over the echoing babble of trainers talking to each other and getting ready at their stations, he blurts, "Don't you care that we have _names_, District Two?"

Coolly, I say, "Actually, no. But I'll give you free advice. Stay away from the Cornucopia."

He gives me a poisonous look and turns to his district partner.

I quickly count the circle that has finally formed and I see all twenty-four of us are now present. The head trainer steps into the center of the circle and claps twice to get our attention.

"All right, everyone, listen up. I'm Atala, the new Head Trainer. The first rule of being here is that you do not fight with another tribute. The second rule is that you're free to go to any station you like. If you would like to spar, we have trainers available who will be happy to demonstrate their knowledge and skills for you, as well as provide sparring partners."

Atala takes a few moments to review the stations in the gymnasium, then looks around at us when she finishes.

"So. Any questions?" barks Atala. After a few moments, she says, "No? All right, then. Training is from now – ten in the morning – to twelve at noon, when we'll break for lunch for an hour. After that we resume, and you can break for supper starting at five o'clock PM; this gym stays open until seven at night. Tomorrow, we will be open starting at eight AM and stay open until eight PM. So, with that, good luck!"

It's time to see what we're all made of.

* * *

Author Note: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work! :)


	11. Chapter 11

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 11

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

The competitiveness between us Careers starts up immediately. I decide to try spear throwing, and Chevis lines up next to me. The trainer, a wiry man who looks to be in his forties, comes up to us and says, "Need any pointers, fellows?"

We shake our heads in negation. The trainer nods and says, "Those targets are about twenty feet – that's about seven meters – away right now. You can see the full length is close to fifty feet." I do some rough math in my head and work out that's seventeen meters.

There's actually room for four spear-throwers at a time; Chevis and I will be aiming at the center two target dummies, which have bull's-eye rings drawn over critical body part locations.

He picks up a spear from a stack next to him, smirks at me, and as though he were born with one in his hand, tosses it to hit the bull's-eye over the target dummy's heart.

I grab one from my stack, heft it, then toss it, hitting my target dummy's heart just off from the bull's-eye. Not quite as lethal, but the difference in how long to live would be measured in a few seconds.

I smirk back at him, and the race is on. We get our spears back and try to aim in as many lethal spots as possible – torso, stomach, head, and a few other crippling spots as well, like the upper thighs.

After half an hour, I've lost count of how many spear throws I've done, and I've hit nineteen bull's-eyes while Chevis has gotten twenty. The targets are now all the way back against the wall. Quite a few of the targets I missed were still pretty close to dead center.

Chevis nods coolly at me, then goes off to try knife throwing. Meanwhile, I ask for the target dummies to be returned to their first position so I can practice a little more, since I'm noticing some wide-eyed tributes watching me. I think one of them is the guy from Nine.

Peer saunters up next, along with Sevan. He stands where Chevis stood, nonchalantly picks up a spear and hefts it. He looks at me and says, "Wonder why your partner isn't with you at the same station. A little trouble on the train, huh?"

I reply, "Not that it should affect the alliance, though."

He narrows his eyes at me and says, "If you two are gonna fight again—"

I lean forward a bit and bark, "None of your business, okay?"

_This is working out pretty well, _I think. Adria and I now have Peer more worried we'll be taking out disagreements on each other than on him.

"It _is_ my business if that means we might get ambushed while you two work out whatever problem you've got between you two." He frowns again.

He's damned observant, for all that he's such an arrogant asshole.

Sevan chimes in, saying, "I was talking to Adria, and when I asked about you all she did was glare at me. If she doesn't like you, Aurelius, there's going to be a problem."

I sigh exasperatedly, more for show than anything else. "Look, there will be no problem. Now can we get back to training here?" The target's now clear of spears. I grab one up and forcefully throw it so hard the spear hits the dummy's torso dead center, then quivers so much it falls down and clatters to the floor, provoking a nasty laugh from Peer as I try not to let a frown cross my face.

He tosses his spear confidently, and it hits his dummy's head nearly dead-center and sticks. Not to be outdone, Sevan swiftly tosses hers, hitting the bull's-eye of the heart on the first try.

We're all definitely well-trained. And that means we're all _deadly_.

/\/\/\

This scenario repeats itself as we lock up the weapons stations for the rest of the morning. Knife throwing, staff fighting, using maces, swords – you name it, none of us seem to be particularly weak at anything. Peer and Bell, for all their haughtiness, are only a bit worse than Adria at swords, and anything you can throw, Chevis and Sevan are dead-on accurate when they practice. I'm definitely holding my own in anything I quickly practice at.

When the call to break for lunch goes around the gymnasium, I decide that for the afternoon I'll get down to business instead of showing off, and will practice with staves, maces and flails.

Meantime, we head off to eat.

I haven't really been watching the other stations, but I did notice the guy from Nine was working out with the weights and not doing too bad of a job. His form's a bit off, but I could get him set straight in no time.

I enter the lunch room and notice Chevis and Bell have grabbed the table nearest one of the lunch carts. I notice several more set around the room with assorted foods and drinks on each of them. Noticing the guy from Nine standing next to one of them, I purposely go up next to him to begin selecting my sandwiches and drink. I say, "Hi."

Surprise crosses his features as he looks back at me. He's pale white, with black hair and hazel eyes. He's a bit shorter than me, but not by much. However, he's obviously wiry, rather than bulky like us Careers. He looks me in the eye and says, "Hi back. Why are you even talking to me? Shouldn't you be over at the table with the rest?"

I try to smile disarmingly, saying, "Maybe I want to get to know someone else, too. Name's Aurelius. From Two."

He nods, relaxing a bit as he says, "I'm Augustus. From Nine."

I consider his unusual name, which makes me wonder if he's the illegitimate son of a Peacekeeper. My father's friends haven't exactly been celibate during their years away from Two.

I say, "I'd shake hands, but I'm carrying this plate and drink. See you around?"

Augustus nods. "Yeah, okay."

He scurries off, and I saunter over to the Career table, seating myself without any great hurry. I look over the rest of the lunch room, noticing most of the other tributes scattered over the other tables, with maybe a couple of tables with two people at them. I'm on Sevan's left, and unfortunately seated across from Peer Faust.

Peer sneers at me, saying, "Slumming it, District Two?"

"Getting more allies, _District One_. In case you hadn't noticed, that guy's almost as tall as me, he can lift weights, and he's from Nine, which is the hunting district. That means he's not a total weakling. Now, do _you_ know how to set a trap? Huh?"

Peer grits his teeth as he shakes his head, and the rest of us are forced into a kind of uneasy silence. Chevis says, "Well, I know lobster traps, but I gather that wasn't what you meant."

Adria, who's seated across from Chevis and on Sevan's right, pipes up, saying, "I was talking to the girl from District Six; we were doing some knife throwing while quite a few of you were busy waving your spears around. You notice she doesn't seem that worried? She wasn't even scared when you guys all showed you could hit a torso at maximum distance."

Bell, who seems a bit bored, says, "And what of it?"

Adria smacks the table lightly, saying, "I want her with us, not against us."

Chevis waves his hand dismissively. "What good're chemicals or whatever they use over there? She's just gonna be dead weight, Adria."

Adria hisses, "Damn it, Chevis! She's eighteen and she's Sevan's height. She might be able to hold us off long enough to get help."

Chevis, taking a bite out of a fish sandwich, ponders this. Even Peer's casting speculative glances around the room, his eyes settling on the girl whose back is straight as she eats industriously. By contrast, I see the District Twelve people hunkering down way over in the far corner, barely touching their lunches.

Sevan remarks, "Not to mention we're forgetting something: mutts."

I nod. "Yeah. We need to stick together in case we get attacked by them. It'd be a pretty poor Games that didn't have some surprises. The more people in one spot, the better to be able to attack in groups against single mutts."

Bell flicks her hair again and says, "Well, all right, then. We can bring them in after training today, see how they do."

Peer gets a bored look and says, "Okay, enough jawing. Can we eat? I'm hungry."

That forces a chuckle out of all of us, even me, as I get to work on my sandwiches.

/\/\/\

After lunch, I take it easy, practicing with the mace. Swinging around a heavy spiked ball at the end of a metal handle and chain takes practice to get right, and not a week would go by at the CEC without a trainee maiming him or herself somewhere and needing stitches. I'm not going to spar with anyone and risk hurting them, especially as I see purple-robed Gamemakers starting to show up on the elevated level that runs around the gymnasium.

So I concentrate on making a good show of being able to whip the mace around without hurting myself. Lunge forward, smash mace into corkboard on the floor. Yank it back, whirl about, mace extended at chest level, slow down as the mace slows down to let it hit the floor with a slight _thunk._ Keep moving deliberately, but fairly quickly.

After about a half-hour of this, I give the handle back to the trainer, who nods and says, "Good technique." I notice the boy from Eight giving me a look of awe mixed with loathing before he walks over to what I think is the camouflage station. I catch some of the Gamemakers giving me speculative looks.

I walk over to the flails, and ask for one of the trainers for a sparring partner. He nods to one of the servants (who I assume is an Avox), who comes forward to stand near me. I mentally assess him: older, in his late thirties, fairly quick movements. Should be a good challenge. As I take my initial stance, I see Adria come up to the same station and ask for the other trainer for her sparring partner. I notice the station's wide enough to allow us both a good three-meter radius.

I have no idea how much time actually passes, because as soon as the Avox lunges forward, swishing his flail out from his side across him, I'm focused just on blocking, parrying, attacking. Sweat drips off my forehead as I realize we're quite evenly matched. The _clack_ of our flails is the only thing that registers in my ears, and I can barely spare a moment here and there to see that Adria is similarly concentrating on her match.

Finally, the trainer barks, "Okay, that's enough!"

Breathing heavily, I let my arm drop, and I hand back the flail as he hands me a towel. He says, "You definitely don't need training on flails. You fought to a draw."

After wiping my face and neck off, I nod briefly at the trainer, and notice with satisfaction that Adria ended her sparring before me. Bell's speculative gaze at me drops when I catch her eye. I wonder if she was watching us to see which one would last longer, or if Adria and I would start openly competing.

Deciding I need a break from physical activity, I wander around the other stations, noticing tributes from the other districts shrinking back a little as I attempt to see what they're doing. I end up at an un-manned leaf and plants station. There's a table, with a woman behind it smiling pleasantly. She gestures me to a chair and says, "Hi. Have you any experience with plants, berries, roots, that sort of thing?"

I shake my head slightly, and she introduces herself as Serena. She briefly mentions a book, which I dismiss in favor of trying to listen to her fill my head with types of leaves, vines, berries and roots. I learn, for example, that a particular shape of leaf means poison ivy, a leaf that can give you an itchy rash. I also learn that most vines are harmless, but that there are animals that can camouflage themselves as vines, so throwing a stick at a suspect vine is always the safest thing to do.

Finally, at the end of the fifteen-minute intro, she says, "Now, why don't you take a few minutes and try to identify all these on my other table?"

She gestures me to the table to my right, which has nothing but various plant specimens on it with numbers next to each one. She hands me a piece of paper and a pen, saying, "write down what you think each number is. You're welcome to use references, or if someone else comes along, to consult with them. Don't touch any of them, though, as they're all real specimens."

Tentatively, I begin trying to identify the first leaf, which I think is from an oak tree. The next is from pine, which I've seen growing on the mountains back home. However, before long, I'm spending minutes staring carefully at each item. I finally decide the grayish-blue berry I see is an elderberry and not a blueberry when I notice the guy from District Eight coming up and watching me warily. He refuses the training help, and finally, when I'm about to give up and guess as to what the next berry is, he blurts, "That's boysenberry."

Serena, who's been keeping an eye on me, smiles broadly and moves away to get some water. It's clear this station isn't heavily-frequented.

Surprised, I say, "You have them in Eight?"

"I see them all the time in my District. We're not stone quarriers like you, you know."

I shrug and nod in acknowledgement. He hesitantly takes a seat next to me. I assess him close-up for the first time. He's got light brown hair, and his brown eyes dart this way and that as he scoots back just a bit.

He frowns and says, "Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be plotting how to kill me with the others?"

"You've got a pretty smart mouth, there," I warn.

"Damn it!" He seems to boil over in frustration. "You've already put me in my place twice. I _know_ you can beat me up without even breaking a sweat. But can you just back off for once?"

Surprised, I regard him in a new light. Maybe I've been a little too cocky around him. If I keep intimidating all the tributes they might try ganging up at the Cornucopia. I try a new strategy. "Okay, I won't try to scare you. Truce?"

Warily, he eyes me and says, "Okay. Promise?"

"I promise," I reply.

The silence lengthens between us until I say, "I'm Aurelius."

"Dusty," he responds.

I snap my fingers. "Oh yeah! I saw your Reaping. Dusty Rhodes, right? I have to admit, it's kind of creative to get named the same way as a dusty road."

His mouth twists and he says sourly, "Try not to reuse the same old jokes I got in school, okay?"

I shrug and change the subject. "Anyway, I'm trying to identify all these things." I wave my hand towards the table.

"Okay." Dusty grabs the book from the other table and says, "We had the abridged version of this in my school. There's a variety of plant life around District Eight, though we're not normally allowed out into the nature preserves after dark."

"Wait. Why do you need nature preserves? I thought you all made clothes and uniforms." I'm puzzled.

"We're allowed to have them because some plants are sources of natural dyes we import from District Six so we can make clothes of different colors. Your outfit there is all-synthetic though. I can tell from the shiny gray color and the way it practically clings to your body."

I'm starting to like this guy, even if I know we're going to be enemies in the Hunger Games. I smile at him briefly and notice his rather sudden interest. Mentally putting that away for later, I say, "Stone is pretty much stone. We mine out limestone, gypsum … things like that. They're different colors but they all kind of combine to a dusty grey color on the guys that come back from the quarries."

Dusty nods, his eyes now wide in keen interest rather than in fear. He says, "Lemme see your list."

Before long, we've got all the plants identified, and Serena beams at me as though I were her best student ever. She says, "With that kind of cooperative endeavor, I'm sure you both will go far in surviving. You're welcome to stay and keep reading that identification guide, or move to the other stations."

I decide it's time to get back. I say, "Gonna go and train on the staves. See you around, Dusty."

He hesitantly touches my arm and says in a low voice, "Thanks. For letting me pretend for a while that you're not going to kill me."

I let my Success Mask fall into place as I stare at Dusty. He swallows and yanks his hand back. I say coldly, "I'll make you one promise. I'll make it quick when I do."

I stalk over to the station where there's a tall, severe woman with several staves next to her. I ask for a metal one. After I find one I like, I ask if there's anyone to spar with, and she has a well-muscled female Avox come up to me with a staff of her own. Soon, I lose myself in the smooth move and counter-move as I twist and thrust my staff to fend off blows while trying to land my own.

It's better than wondering how I let the guy from District Eight get too close to me.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work :)

I forgot to mention that the character's name of "Dusty Rhodes" was inspired by the professional wrestler who has that name. In fact, I first thought his name was "Dusty Roads" before I saw it spelled out on television. :)


	12. Chapter 12

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 12

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

I spend a lot of time practicing the staves, outlasting the other Careers who come over to spar side by side with me against the Avoxes. Finally, the trainer firmly tells me to move on, as I've managed to tire out all of the available sparring partners. I nod, thank the trainer, and move to the weights. The trainer for them looks bored because nobody needs his help.

Chevis is on the free-weight bench press, and he's pressing ninety kilos. Peer's spotting him, so I go to the universal gym and begin my usual workout regime, starting with the leg press.

After he's finished bench pressing, Chevis notices what I'm doing, as does Peer, and they start using the stations as I finish with them. I notice Chevis manages to handle the same weight amounts as me, pretty much. He's either really strong for his age or he's trying to show off and will hurt himself.

Bell and Sevan set up on the free-weight bench press, while Adria grabs some dumbbells and begins doing curls. I move off the universal gym and start doing squats.

Just as I finish my last rep in the squat rack, I notice the large clock has just gone to five o'clock. I debate doing more training versus taking care of other things on my mental checklist, but the decision gets made for me when Peer and Bell take off, and I notice some of the other tributes knocking off for the day as well.

Feeling less guilty about breaking a bit earlier than I would have otherwise, I nod curtly to Adria, then cast an eye around for Augustus, who's leaving the slingshot station. As luck would have it, we're the only two deciding to take the elevator this time. I nod at him after pressing the call button, and he says, "Hey. Um, good training day?"

"Yeah. The weights here are great. They're a lot like the ones I use at school."

"This is the first time I've seen a _real_ weight set. At school all we had were some old dumbbells."

"That explains it," I say.

Augustus frowns at me. "Huh?"

"Oh, your form looked okay, but not the greatest. I figured it was because you were getting used to them."

The elevator doors open, which prompts us to go in. Before Augustus can hit the button for the ninth floor, I grab his upper arm lightly and hit the button for the roof. My quick assessment at lunch was right: he's more wiry than muscular, but what's there is respectable. He's also still a bit tense.

I let go of his arm and say, "Ever been on the roof?"

He shakes his head.

"You'll love the view. I was up this morning, and it was pretty nice." I grin, remembering how impressive it was before.

I'm hoping he doesn't get anxious when I set him up to come into the Career Pack.

Once we're at the roof level, we step out, pass through the dome, and explore the roof a bit. Augustus is impressed by the view from our height, and I caution him about the force field. There's a bit of a wind, and it rustles the leaves of the plants that make up the small garden.

We're now in the pathway which cuts through the garden and ends up at a T-junction with the pathway around the roof.

In a low voice, I say to Augustus, "You probably have guessed there's another reason to invite you up here besides just being friendly competition in the Hunger Games."

He snorts. "Not so friendly from where I'm standing, District Two."

"That's Aurelius," I remind him.

"Yeah. So what're you proposing?"

I place a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Augustus, I'd like you to ally with us – me, Adria, Districts One and Four. I promise, you won't get any trouble from the others."

He frowns. "What about your district partner? Adria, right?"

"Yeah, that's her." I shrug and take my hand off his shoulder. "Look, there won't be any trouble."

He laughs in disbelief. "You probably know at least three ways to kill someone with what's around you right now, and you got into a fight with someone else who _also_ knows three ways to kill you if she were standing here, and you're telling me it's no trouble?"

Augustus runs his hand through his hair and fidgets. "Look, I don't wanna get caught between you two, okay?"

I've had enough of this waffling. I drop my amiable expression, step close to Augustus and back him up until he's just about to fall into the plants.

I snarl, "_Don't_ fuck with me_._ Are you in or out?"

"In! Shit, I'm in, okay? _Jeez!_" As I back up a bit, Augustus puts his hand on his chest and catches his breath.

"Good. You're a smart guy. Join us first thing tomorrow and we'll get you up to speed." I smile at him. "How good were your hunting skills back in District Nine, by the way?"

He brightens up, apparently happy to be in my good graces. "Pretty good, actually. I can make almost-unbreakable snares for bears and deer. My dad always has me make them because I'm the best, he says."

I lead him over to the railing that goes around the roof, and I say, "Let's walk around the roof a bit and you can tell me more before we go back in, okay?"

There will be others who want to use the plant garden, and I've accomplished my task without letting the gamblers find out. They'll still have a good idea if any of them see him in the Career Pack tomorrow, but they won't know _exactly_ how I did it.

I listen intently as Augustus tells me about his tracking skills, something I've never learned. A few of us Careers try to learn how to follow animals, but for the most part it's unnecessary because we're capable of using lethal force to dispatch one if needed.

Back at the elevator, Augustus says, "You know… you're _different_."

I chuckle. "You expected someone who points and grunts, right?"

Nervously, he joins in, saying, "Uh, I hafta admit I didn't get the greatest impression of Two from the last few Hunger Games."

"Understandable. It's not like stone quarrying calls for brains for the most part." Besides, I tell myself, _they were weak. They didn't survive to the end, so there was something wrong with them._

A comfortable silence follows as we go back to our respective floors. Once I exit on the floor for Two, I head to my room to get in a quick shower and change of clothes before I meet Adria, Brutus and Lyme.

/\/\/\

As it turns out, Rhea's also present. She's eager to hear what we have to say. Brutus says, "Adria came in just a bit before you did. There's coffee on the table here. Pour a cup and let's get the rundown on today's training session."

Adria leads off after a quick gulp of her orange juice. She says, "Okay. The other Careers are worried about me and Aurelius. They're still not sure if we've buried our differences or not, and part of that is because I purposely stayed away from him a lot."

I chime in, saying, "Yeah. I actually got into a confrontation, almost, with the guy from District One – that's Peer Faust – over it. Speaking of which, District One's going to be a problem." I sigh gustily and slump in my chair. "That spoiled mayor's son thinks he's the President's personal gift to Panem, and the girl is—" I blush and look at Adria as I sit back up.

Adria laughs. "She's got the boys interested in her. I think at least everybody in the gym checked her out at least once. Her outfit was this form-fitting red-colored unitard, and y'know, her chest is pretty… well, she's probably a cup bigger than mine."

Lyme snorts. "Typical District One. Fancy jewels, fancy clothes, fancy everything. Problem is, they've also got the fancy training. Looks like you're going to have to keep an eye on them in the Games and keep them in line. Are they physically strong?"

Adria nods. "Bell Drossen can aim a knife as well as me, and she's no slouch at spears either. I'm actually hard-pressed to say _any_ of the Careers are really bad at anything. The two from Four – Chevis Bannon and Sevan Odell – they're smilers. They act nice, but they're just as good as Aurelius and me, easily."

Taking up the thread, I say, "Yeah. Peer's good with weapons, and Chevis can lift as much weight as I can. I'm just surprised his muscles aren't bigger."

Brutus cautions, "He may only have just started recently as a way to appear stronger. He'll run the risk of hurting himself to prove a point, if that's true."

I finish my evaluation by saying, "Basically, if I had to say one word to describe us all, it's 'competitive'. We're all well-trained. I tried to make it look like I concentrated on staves back home, but whether that really throws anybody off, I have no idea." I sip my coffee, feeling the warmth fill my insides.

Adria says, "Yeah. I agree with Aurelius. I spent a lot of time on knife throwing; Diana from Six is also somewhat decent at them and we had a short, but pretty icy conversation. I think she's leaning to joining the Careers."

"I pulled in Augustus just a while ago." I can't help but grin at one-upping Adria here.

Lyme's approving look convinces me I had the right idea. "How are his skills compared to yours?"

"He knows some weights, but he's less bulky. He's a good hunter back home, if I can trust all of what he said. Knows tracking, snares, things like that. He's smart in those areas. I had to scare him a little bit to get him to join, because he was hesitating, so he might be indecisive in the Games."

Adria says, "Hey. I noticed you were at the plants station for a bit. Anyone show up there?"

"Yeah. I did what you said, Brutus, and walked around the whole gym; pretty much everybody who's not a Career kind of shied away. Speaking of which, at lunch we were pretty much the only ones who ate everything, except for Diana from Six. But when I was at the plants station, this kid from Eight came up to talk to me."

Brutus says, his eyebrows lifted in surprise, "What did he have to say?"

"Well, it's already pretty clear I'm not great with plants or berries, but he's good with them. In Eight, they keep samples of the plants that District Six makes dyes from. So he learned all about them when he was growing up. I scared him off in the end, though."

Brutus gives a small shrug. "Not surprising, Aurelius. Dealing with another tribute usually needs the right mix of diplomacy and intimidation. If you don't get it right, your strategy becomes less effective. I suggest at this point waiting to see if he survives the bloodbath. If he does, then form a temporary alliance to find food. After that, decide on his usefulness."

Rhea muses, "It sounds like at least a few of your potential competitors are fairly intelligent this year. You might want to think about how to turn that to your advantage in the upcoming interviews."

Lyme slaps the table lightly. "Okay. We'll turn you two loose to eat supper soon, but here's what I say you should do for tomorrow. Get downstairs early, make sure that Augustus kid sticks with you guys, and get that Diana person in if you can. Keep specializing in what you've chosen, but don't neglect the other weapons too much. Did the trainers kick you off any of the weapons?"

I chuckle. "Yeah, the staff guy finally said I'd had enough after about a couple of hours."

"Okay. Run out your time limit with them tomorrow, then switch to something else. We'll start working on interview angles tomorrow as well. Any questions or last-minute observations?"

Adria says, "Do you think Aurelius and I should start cooperating more tomorrow or keep doing what we've been doing?"

Lyme sits back and thinks. Brutus puts his hands on the table, presses down, then relaxes. "Keep the apparent rift between you two open. In fact, I suggest some kind of staged incident tomorrow."

"Such as?"

"I'm sure you can work with Aurelius on that, Adria."

I say, "Then we'd better get started on that now. May we go back to our rooms?"

Brutus nods, and Adria and I go into the hallway. When we reach our doors, I say, "Your room or mine? I'm a little hungry and we might as well eat together."

She shrugs. "Yours."

As I open my door and usher her inside, I can't help but feel that inviting Adria Adrastea into my room carries more significance than it should.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work. :) Again, please review or PM me if you think something isn't working right in this fan-fiction story. :)


	13. Chapter 13

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 13

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

Adria and I decide to be adventurous when ordering dinner.

I end up with hamburger sandwiched in between two startling blue-green buns, with beets as a side dish, while Adria has a kind of bread the menu said was "pita" bread, with lamb inside. We also each get a Fizzy-cola.

We stare at each other across the table in the corner of the room near the draped windows. I say, "You first."

She laughs. "No way. _You_ first, Aurelius."

I cross my arms and say, "No way. _You _eat that thing first, Adria."

Adria lifts her eyebrow. "Mine looks more normal than yours does. Whoever has the weirder meal eats the first bite. My rule."

She crosses her arms and smirks. I decide not to draw out the debate and reluctantly take my first bite. The bread has a slightly salty flavor to it, but the hamburger itself is a rich meat that's unlike anything I've had before.

"Delicious!" I exclaim.

Adria, a bit skeptical, takes a bite of her bread-with-lamb. As she takes her first bite, setting the rest of the bread back on her plate, her expression transforms. Her eyes go wide as she chews and swallows, obviously happy with her meal choice.

"Okay. This? Don't let me order any more or you'll have to roll me out of here," Adria says.

We discuss the plan for tomorrow while slowly eating our meals. It's a pretty simple, but workable plan that relies on some basic deception.

I lean back in my chair, draining the last of my drink as I survey the empty dishes on the table in my room. As I set the can on the table, I look up at Adria, who's wiping her mouth with a napkin. She leans back as well and breathes a sigh of relief. She remarks, "Well, at least you won't have to worry about me ordering more. I'm _full_."

I chuckle. "Me too." Realizing something, I mutter, "Hey. What time is it?"

I find the remote control for the television in a drawer beside the bed, and turn on the television, seeing that it's only about 7 o'clock at night. The television is opposite the bed, so I sit down at the end and say, "You want to watch whatever they've got on this thing?"

Adria's noncommittal, and sits beside me. I figure out how to change channels, and we flick through several news channels, all with reporters breathlessly gushing about the Hunger Games. We settle on channel number ten, and we see a gold-skinned man looking into the camera. He grins widely and bellows, "Greetings, Hunger Games watchers and enthusiasts! Today, we've got a few tantalizing exclusive pictures of just _what_ some of the tributes might be up to!"

Some very blocky and grainy images show up on the right side of the screen, and as best as I can tell one of them is Peer and Bell standing close to each other in the garden on the roof. The next is a picture of a trio of tributes on the glass-encased elevator just before it drops below ground level. Yet another is me and Augustus just walking out from the garden. There's even more like this; the common theme is that you can barely make out any detail. If I hadn't known Bell was wearing the red unitard I would have assumed Peer had somehow landed a Capitol girlfriend for the night. But then, even his face is kind of blocky, so trying to figure out if it's Peer could be kind of hard to do.

The man says, "Is there a possible budding romance? An alliance? Will these people stab each other in the back later on? Only these twenty-four young men and women know what lies ahead, viewers! And now, for your entertainment, let's have a look at the highlights of the fifty-second Hunger Games!"

Excitedly, I blurt, "That's Brutus's Games! We've never seen them except when someone subs for Brutus in strategy classes."

Adria leans forward, her hands on her knees as she anticipates the countdown.

The view changes to a rocky arena, with the tributes standing around a Cornucopia stuffed with supplies and weapons. The overhead view steadies as we see the timer in the lower right corner count down from 1:00.

I think Brutus is the one almost parallel with the Cornucopia's mouth, if I can trust my memory from last year when we got to briefly analyze these Games.

At the _gong_, it's total bedlam.

About a quarter of the tributes do an about-face and rush away from the Cornucopia; the rest rush into the bloodbath.

The camera view changes to a tribute's-eye view, letting us see Brutus snatch up a mace and whirl around, whipping it into a girl's stomach, the momentum of the blow sending her flying into the back of another tribute, who falls over. But Brutus isn't hesitating. Just like I did in training, he's whirled a full circle, and is about to swing the spiked ball overhead into a tall, thin, but agile boy rushing toward him, a knife in his hand.

The camera switches among Brutus and several other muscular tributes, and the confused yells and screams lend a realism to the battle we've missed when viewing them in holo-projectors. The better-armed tributes deal death with efficient quickness, and before long, the ruined bodies of at least half the tributes lie around the suriving Career Pack.

The death toll flashes on the screen. Pretty much everyone from Districts 9 through 12 are wiped out, plus the two from 3 and the boy from 5 and the girl from 7. Most noticeably, the boy from 1 is also dead. I peer closer at the screen and I notice that a dart is sticking out of his neck. I'm forced to marvel that someone, in that confusion, managed to shoot a poison dart at a seventeen-year-old who was wielding a staff.

It's a sobering reminder that danger comes easily to the unobservant.

The cannons begin blasting to count off the deaths. The Careers move out of the Cornucopia area to let the hovercraft in. Once the bodies are gone, Brutus quickly organizes the remaining Careers into the usual tasks of gathering supplies and defending the Cornucopia.

After that, the Games are shown with only the major battle highlights; on one of the "hunts" organized by the Career Pack, the girl from Four astonishes me by throwing a spear and catching someone standing at the top of a rocky outcropping; that must have been almost seventy feet!

But soon enough, it's Brutus standing alone facing the guy from District Seven; his name's Daniel Richardson. The statistics at the bottom tell us Brutus was eighteen and weighed 215 pounds, being six foot one, while Daniel was seventeen, weighed about 190, and was six feet tall. The other measures in centimeters and kilograms are also given.

As I assess Daniel, I notice he's got something of the build of a Career, but he's still not as muscular. He must have worked in a job like stone quarrying; I know they produce lumber, so I figure he was a logger.

He also doesn't quite have the same skill with his machete as Brutus does with a short sword; nonetheless, the _clang_ of metal against metal shows Daniel's managing to defend himself.

Both are in a desolate rocky part of the landscape; the ground is uneven and I can see they're in a small ravine. There's a couple of large bears on either side of the pathway out, which tells me how Brutus and Daniel got pushed to each other; the mutts will kill whoever tries to run away.

Adria and I both wince in unison as we see Daniel make a crucial mistake; he doesn't turn to his side as he thrusts the machete, exposing his torso to Brutus's fatal thrust as the short sword _thunks _right into Daniel's heart.

Daniel's expression of surprise is almost comical as he looks down and staggers, trying to stay on his feet.

Blood trickles out of Daniel's mouth as he tries to gasp for breath, only to collapse a moment later. His cannon fires immediately after, and Brutus grins, throwing his hands in the air as he is announced the Victor of the Fifty-Second Hunger Games.

I hit the MUTE button and set the remote control down between me and Adria.

The adrenaline's been flowing just from watching the Games and now I want to work off some of that tension. I pound my knee and say, "I wish the training center was still open right now. All this energy, damn it."

Adria bounces to her feet and gestures at me. "C'mon. Right here, right now. I owe you for that kick to my leg."

I jump to my feet and growl, "I owe _you _for that bruise to my eye."

She snaps a kick to my leg, which I quickly block with my own kick. I lunge forward, trying to punch her squarely in the solar plexus, but Adria sees what I'm about to do and bats my arm away, sending a blow to my right side, provoking a grunt. I'm thanking my lucky stars there's enough muscle there that it doesn't feel like she got my kidney.

I step back quickly, regrouping.

Adria jumps up, trying to land a foot on my chin. I swiftly shove her foot away with my hand, and with my other hand, I land a blow to her side, causing her to fall heavily to the ground.

She's breathing heavily as she stands, and I rub my side where she struck me. It's probably not enough to be that bad, but hurts a bit. I'll probably get a bruise from it.

We look each other in the eyes. I can't read her eyes. They're not narrowed in hatred, but there's something there. Almost like a wild animal that knows when to back down.

And I also know when to back down. "Good fight. Too quick, though."

Adria grins menacingly and says, "I enjoy a challenge. Wanna do this in the Games?"

I smile coldly and say, "You're on. Then we'll see who's better. Too bad we can't spar to a final winner right now."

"Me too," says Adria.

We've been moving closer to each other as though a cord were pulling us. All of a sudden, she stalks forward, grabbing the back of my neck and kissing me on the mouth. I automatically return the kiss, clasping her shoulder.

We break the kiss, our eyes wide. I say, "You're _good_."

"So're you. Ever had make-up sex after a sparring session?"

Even though I should have expected that, my brain still momentarily freezes. I blurt, "Huh?"

She shakes her head in amusement. "Poor Aurelius. You freeze up like that in the arena..."

I run my hand through my hair and breathe steadily. "I know. I'll be dead."

I let my hands fall to my side and I reply to Adria's earlier question. "Anyway, about the make-up sex thing. Well, yeah. There was one time Tarsus and I had a hand-to-hand sparring session that lasted for – oh, man – twenty minutes, at least? It was right at the end of the day when most everybody else was knocking off for the showers. But we wanted to win and weren't gonna back down just because some trainer said we were done, right?"

Remembering, I look off to the the images flickering on the television as I continue. "We kept trading fists and kicks and I couldn't tell you exactly what happened, except for the end. I got under Tarsus's punch and managed to tackle him to the floor. He tried to flip me over but couldn't. I just kept pushing down, trying to spread my weight so he couldn't push me off, you know?"

I chuckle. "His way of admitting defeat was to do what you just did, except you and I were standing up. He reached up, pulled my head down, and kissed me right there on a training mat at the CEC. We waited till everyone was out of the showers, then finished in there."

Adria snorts. "You two sure didn't waste any time, did you?"

I shrug that off and switch the television back to channel zero. It's just gone past 9:30 PM now. I shut off the TV and put the remote back on the table beside the bed. "I should probably turn in. I'll... pass... on that make-up sex thing for now, though."

Adria smiles. "Suit yourself. I'll see you first thing tomorrow. Looks like we'll have a bigger Career Pack than Brutus did. I wonder why he doesn't like showing us his own Games, though."

"If I had to guess, I'd say it's 'cause he doesn't want to look like he's biasing us to his own strategy. Every arena is different, so going over his games too much would make us think only about rocky places." I take my shirt off and toss it in a corner of the room.

"I suppose. By the way, if your goal is to try and make me stay here, you're doing it right, you know." Adria wiggles her eyebrows and I laugh in embarrassment as I realize I didn't even think about her being in the room.

"Well, I've done this so often with Tarsus, you know..."

The implications of that strike me forcefully, and I fall silent as Adria nods and leaves without a further word.

Could Adria be more than just my District partner in these Games?

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work. If you have comments, thoughts or concerns about the way this fic is evolving, feel free to let me know. I appreciate all critiques! :-)


	14. Chapter 14

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 14

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

After the night's events with Adria, I lie awake in bed, staring into the dark. She's a lot like Tarsus: she can fight and she likes me. She's a bit more open about showing it between us, though, than he was.

At least she and I have this fake rivalry thing going to keep me from acting like a complete idiot around her, because if I didn't keep it in my mind I'd probably do something dumb like stare at her across the gym, and everybody'd figure it out in an instant.

I wonder what Tarsus is doing. Is he trying to take his mind off me being in the Games by jogging around the track at the CEC? He wouldn't be required to go, but nobody'd stop him. I've gone myself when I've been anxious to see what the next day will bring in the Games. There's something about running under the starry sky when the night's clear and cold that's particularly refreshing.

I hope nobody's teasing him about me being gone. Adria's right about how obvious we probably were. At least nobody ever said anything to my face about it, as much as my dad mostly tolerated the matter.

Mentally, I try to put myself on that track at night, jogging in unison with Tarsus, bumping him with my shoulder to let him know I've caught up with him.

/\/\/\

I wake up groggily the next morning; I've slept maybe five hours at most, if the slight persistence of tiredness is an indication. A quick shower later, I exit the room in my towel to find the male servant back in my room, tidying up my clothes from last night. He looks questioningly at my training outfit, and I shake my head. "Leave that. I'm gonna wear it again today."

Then I remember what I was going to ask. Before he can gather up the clothes to leave, I say, "Wait. Hold on."

Nervously, he looks at me as I come close to assess him. Skinny, a bit shorter than me, he seems like he's in his early twenties. I sit on the bed and find some paper and a pen in the drawer where I found the TV remote, and say, "Can you write?"

He seems really reluctant to answer, but finally nods.

I ask, "Why are you an Avox? Why do they want you to never speak?"

His face suffuses as he refuses to meet my eye. He kneels next to the table, my clothes strewn about his feet. He writes, _I'm a criminal._

"What?" I gasp in shock. "How could you..."

I scowl at him angrily. "How could you commit a crime against the Capitol? They give us _everything_. I'm here today to prove to the Capitol that my District can produce the best tribute!"

Shakily, he writes, _They can't do any worse to me except kill me, so I may as well confess to you. They caught me trying to send warm clothes to the people in District Twelve when I used a fake requisition form to load a train that was also delivering food to them._

I spit, "You disgust me. Why should they get clothes they don't deserve when their miners are too stupid to meet their quotas? Some of them don't even feed themselves properly; they only give their kids one meal a day and waste the rest. You'd know that if you grew up here. That's what we learn in District Two!"

The Avox just puts the pen down and looks at me sadly.

Unsettled, I bark, "Go, already!"

After he leaves with my clothes, I irritably yank the towel off and put my training outfit back on. I grab the paper and tear it into tiny shreds, tossing the pieces into the garbage bin, which silently disintegrates the paper into nothingness.

I'm too annoyed to be surprised and I stalk out of the room to get my breakfast. I'm only there long enough to get some oatmeal with brown sugar and a coffee. After I finish and leave the room, I encounter Adria as she's about to come into the room. Brutus and Lyme still haven't shown up, so I assume they must be meeting sponsors.

Adria looks at me, leans back a bit and says, "What's got you all tied up in a knot, now?"

I look at the female Avox standing by the food, and touch Adria's elbow to guide her out of the room. After I close the door, I say, "I found out why there's Avoxes. They're criminals, Adria."

Adria stares at me in disbelief and smacks my chest with the back of her hand. She says, "That's it? You're actually bothering to care? Okay, so what – they're criminals. That means they're beneath our notice. Now get your head together. How's your side?"

I move down the hall and experimentally try a few basic combat moves. "Not too bad. Might hurt a bit more if I stress that muscle area." I nod at her. "How's yours?"

She feels her side a bit uncertainly. "Hard to tell. Mostly hurts when I stretch the muscle, like this."

She leans over to one side, extending her arm, then twitches and abruptly stands straight up again. "I can probably handle it, but I'll need to watch out in knife throwing. When do you want to do the thing?"

"Let's run out our time limits at our stations, then get together after. We can scowl at each other over lunch."

Adria chuckles. "That's going to be so funny. Honestly, I can't stand Bell sometimes with that hair tossing thing. They'd better cut it close for the Games or she's gonna get it tangled in something."

I'm looking into Adria's eyes, and I don't know why I say it, but I do. "Hey. Can I kiss you before I go downstairs?"

She's surprised, but leans close for us to lock lips for a few seconds. When we break the kiss, she claps my shoulder and says, "Okay. Get going. The sugar on your tongue was nice, but I'd rather eat the real thing."

That forces a laugh out of me, and I wait for the elevator to take me downstairs.

When I get on, I notice Augustus, who's apparently decided to get an early start as well. I nod slightly and say, "Morning."

He's a bit wary now. I say, "Hey. I'll only get mad if you don't pull your weight with the rest of us. Okay?"

Augustus relaxes and says, "Okay. I kind of almost had second thoughts last night, to be honest. 'Cause you scared me and then treated me nicely again so fast, you know?"

As the elevator lets us off on the gymnasium floor, I reply nomcommitally, "Some of us get mad and stay mad, but others don't. Just don't annoy me."

Augustus tries to look confident as he says, "I can live with that."

Chevis and Sevan are already at the weight equipment; the clock in the gym has just gone past eight. I bring Augustus over to them and make some introductions. Their apparent friendliness will help keep Augustus with us; Peer being there first would be a complete disaster.

I give Augustus a friendly clap on the shoulder, putting a little strength into it to remind him not to get more second thoughts. "Go to it with them on the weights. I'm off to do some staff sparring."

I nod at the District Four tributes, then make my way to the station with the staves. The trainer there gives me a polite nod, then gestures over one of the sparring partners. Adria's admonishment stays in my head, but even so, I can't quite un-see a criminal in front of me. I say, "Don't hold back."

That begins one of the most intense sparring sessions I've ever had. The Avox seems determined to prove himself as he whips his staff around, putting his moves together as well as I can. The exhilaration of the battle consumes me, and it's like I'm back in training, dodging every thrust of a staff, knowing it means a broken leg or worse if I don't.

/\/\/\

I finally get kicked off the staff station after two hours. I'm sweating like crazy, and the trainer says, "Take a break; go do something else for a bit."

"I can keep going," I protest; my lower back muscle isn't too bad, so I'm not exaggerating here.

Firmly, he shakes his head. "I don't know what you've done back home, but I can't have a tribute getting hurt on my watch. There's a bathroom next to the lunch room where you can clean up."

I take the hint about the shower, since I'm going to be pretty rank otherwise. Now that I think about it, the only reason the other Careers didn't notice yesterday was because they'd all worked up a sweat, too.

The bathroom is sectioned off into several private stalls; you can't see in them as the walls go from floor to ceiling. There are six doors, all of which show VACANT on their visiplates. Curiously, I go inside one of them to see that it has a toilet, sink, shower and what's labelled as a laundry unit. I lock the door, then examine the laundry unit.

There's a sign on the wall which simply reads INSERT CLOTHES HERE, with an arrow pointing down to the roughly half-meter wide circular opening at waist height. I strip, then drop all my clothes in. A disc shoots across the opening, covering it while the machine whirs noisily.

A minute later, the whirring stops, the circular hole re-opens, and a drawer shoots out the side of the machine, which contains my clean clothes. I leave the machine alone while I take a quick shower, then dry off and put my clothes back on.

Every time I think I've seen what the Capitol can offer, there is something more. What must it be like to live here every day? I fleetingly wish I were a true citizen of the Capitol, but I know that can't happen. As much as I might want to not be from District Two, it's what I am; I'm not worthy of the Capitol. At least not yet.

Once I'm back out in the gymnasium proper, I notice Adria coming back from her rounds of the other stations. I nod quickly, getting a return nod from her.

Chevis is just getting off the bench press. I point and say loudly, "Adria, I need a spotter there. Chevis, can you and Adria load the weights?"

She looks at us both with a neutral look, then says, "How much?"

"I'll warm up with twenty kilos plus the bar. So that'll be forty to start."

I didn't really do much bench pressing yesterday, which is good, because they have no idea how much I can really lift. I lie down on the bench press while Chevis and Adria get the right weights on.

Once the weights are loaded on the bar and locked, Adria gets behind me, her hands near the bar, ready to grab it if need be. I do my usual reps to warm up, and Chevis is starting to get a bit bored. He's looking at the dumbbells, apparently wanting to join Augustus, who's doing some curls, but doesn't want to leave in case I need more weights on.

After my warm-up is complete, I ask for twenty more kilos, then do my usual reps.

So far, so good.

I then ask for a total weight of ninety.

Chevis, apparently figuring I'll stay at that weight for a while, finally breaks off and starts on the dumbbells, only looking at us occasionally while I slowly balance the bar to make sure I don't tilt it and hurt myself or damage something.

One rep. Two. Three.

Adria looks up as if distracted by Peer, who's doing shoulder flyes.

Four.

Five.

I hesitate a bit, as though I'm starting to realize I'm near the limit of what I can lift. Adria's hands are a little too far from the bar.

Six.

On the seventh rep, I lift the bar partway, then as though it's too heavy for me, I let it push my arms back down, and just before it's going to hit my chest, I bark, "_Adria!_"

She snaps back to spotting, and grips the bar to "help" me lift it back onto the rack. I get off the bench press, glaring at her as I yell, "What the hell was that all about?"

She glares back, her fists clenched. "It's not _my_ fault if you want to show off to the rest of the tributes, _Decker_."

I snarl, "It damn well _is_ if you're not spotting me properly because you're staring off somewhere else, _Adrastea_."

I wait until Peer's just behind me, then I lunge towards Adria, who cocks her fist back, only to be grabbed by Bell and Chevis, while Sevan and Peer hold me back. Augustus is looking at us both nervously, but ready to leap in between us if we should break free.

I struggle for a few moments, then realize Peer's grip _is _actually just about strong enough to immobilize me. Add Sevan grabbing my wrists to keep me from trying to hit someone, and I concede defeat.

Atala's over in a flash. "Break it up!" she bellows.

I look around, noticing the wide eyes of the other tributes. The girl from District Six walks up near us while Atala orders us to keep level heads. What she says next makes my blood run cold. "If I have to call in the Peacekeepers, there _will_ be punishments. Understood?"

I look Adria in the eyes, willing her to remember Vincent. I nod to Atala, swallowing nervously. I see Adria's throat constrict just a bit as she lowers her eyes and mumbles something to Atala. The Gamemakers are all staring, as well.

As Atala stalks away, Diana joins us and sardonically says, "Sounds like you guys need someone else to help keep the peace. Mind if I join in?"

None of us really care to try and argue against her, and just like that, the Career Pack expands again. Adria joins Bell and Diana at the bench press, while Augustus goes back with Chevis to the dumbbells. Peer resumes the shoulder flyes he's doing.

The noise of the gym returns, all the more conspicuous by its sudden absence when everyone heard Adria and me arguing.

Sevan gets me off to one side and says into my ear, "They have whippings in Two?"

"They have them in Four?" I whisper as I look around for something to do that she can be nearby for.

Sevan nods and points at the leg extension machine. "I saw how you reacted to the Peacekeepers. There was someone who got caught stealing fish from the catch that was supposed to go to the Capitol. They made an example of him right there at the docks. Just because they could, they whipped him, then poured salt water into the wounds to make him scream, and kept doing it until he fainted."

The leg extension machine is side by side with the leg curl machine. I want to try and calm down, but hearing these little bits and pieces about other Districts beyond what we're taught in school is still tantalizing to me.

As I get set up to do leg extensions, I say, "They don't whip anyone in public in Two."

She frowns as she sets the leg curl machine up. "So how did you find out what happened?"

"Met someone," I say curtly.

Sevan's finished her first rep. "That bad, huh? What'd they do?'

I grunt as I do my own first rep on the machine. "He did something he wasn't supposed to."

Sevan whistles. "I can't decide what's worse, public or just letting it go around with rumors. They like to do it in public once every couple of years, just to remind us that the fish isn't ours. Oh, we can keep some of the catch, but most of it comes here."

"The stone quarries are punishment enough for us, Sevan."

"Are they _really_ that horrible?" She stops her rep and looks at me with an astonished expression.

"Why do you think I'm here and not there? Once I turned nineteen, if I hadn't volunteered or been Reaped..." I fiddle with my wrist identification. "Look, I've seen the men who come back from their shifts. At least one person dies a year from a rock slide. Several more lose their fingers, or even their hands." I take a breath and say, "What would you have had to do?"

Her eyebrows go up. "Me? Learn how to gut fish. My dad's a believer in making people work the hard way before he lets them do the cushy jobs. I've got a cousin who's twenty-five. My uncle got her the job with my dad's factory after she turned eighteen and for the first five years all she did was stand in fish guts slicing the heads off all day. She'd come home smelly and disgusting, but she shut up after my uncle threatened to make her work on a fishing boat."

I frown. "What's wrong with boats?"

"Nothing, except the work's even more backbreaking. Have you noticed how strong Chevis is? That's partly because he has to yank nets in with hundreds of kilos of fish over the summer when tr... um, school's out." Sevan's expression turns earnest. "Look, Aurelius, we're the lucky ones and we _still _cower when threatened with a whipping. What does that tell you?"

Sevan Odell is questioning the Capitol. Lyme's stern warning echoes in my ears as I fix Sevan with my Success Mask expression and say, "I don't want to talk anymore."

She blinks, then finishes her exercises in silence, as do I. It's much safer that way.

/\/\/\

Lunch is marked by me and Adria purposely sitting at opposite ends of the Career table, while Augustus sits next to me, and Peer's across from me again. For effect, I frown in Adria's direction and then begin my meal. Peer resignedly says, "You two are gonna kill each other after the bloodbath, I swear."

Augustus says, "Speaking of which, what should I do at the bloodbath?"

Peer looks up and curtly says, "Stay with me, District Nine."

I nod, as much as I'd like to not admit Peer has a brain. "Yeah. Stick with him. He'll make sure you can fight anyone off. You good with knives, anything like that?"

Augustus mutters, "Yeah."

"Okay. We'll go to knife throwing and knife sparring after lunch. I need to get some practice in anyway," I remark. Peer rolls his eyes and goes back to eating. He's obviously happy Augustus won't be tagging along with him everywhere.

/\/\/\

The afternoon is uneventful as we all get down to serious business. Intently, I work on my knife-throwing accuracy while Augustus learns some basic maneuvers from the knife instructor. After half an hour, I swap places so I can practice close-quarters combo hand-to-hand with a knife. For this, I and my sparring partner have been given knives with specially dulled blades.

The cut and thrust of combat gets me warmed up and pretty soon, I'm in the same mental zone as I was that morning, of seeing moves and anticipating them, while executing my counters.

In a breather between rounds, I notice Diana's watching me. No doubt she's trying to figure out who to stay close to in the bloodbath. The purple-robed Gamemakers are also taking notes. They've been chatting with Atala and the trainers off and on as well, mostly during lunch when I looked back before going into the lunch room.

I put that all out of my mind as I resume, including some sweep kicks to keep the Avox guessing about how I'll fight.

As I finish, I notice Adria's hanging around the camouflage station; the two younger girls from Ten and Twelve are warily eyeing her as she intently works on how to blend in with a sand dune.

I decide to work on flails again, then make a note to refresh myself on swords. As much as I don't want to admit it to myself, I have to realize that it could come down to me versus Adria, and she managed to kick Tarsus's butt in a sword fight.

I'll give her one hell of a good fight, because I'm not letting that happen to me.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to SkyWriter9 for the beta work, and I'd like to thank you all for sticking with this fic! :)


	15. Chapter 15

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 15

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

I'm seated at the dinner table, pointedly ignoring the female Avox as I listen to Brutus, Lyme and Rhea.

Rhea's actually upset for once. "I spent this entire afternoon doing damage control for you two! I've had at least two Gamemakers saying they thought maybe it was too soon for me to be promoted if I can't keep control over you two hotheads!"

Adria, who's seated on Lyme's other side so she's not next to me, defensively replies, "Look, Atala already threatened to sic the Peacekeepers on us. We'll keep quiet from now on, okay?"

"We did get a lot of sponsors backed up in the queue, though," interjects Lyme.

Slightly mollified, Rhea nods. She rapidly begins spooning up her carrot and split pea soup, eyeballing her telephones and datapad.

What puzzles me is how the news got out so fast. Who could have told a news reporter about the fight?

The Gamemakers are always so secretive. The news reporters always look a little upset when they interview one, because the Gamemakers practically talk in riddles, such as saying, "Well, we're not at liberty to discuss the arena, but I can safely say that we're adding some new surprises for the tributes!" The fat one really likes toying with the audience like that.

That says _nothing_ at all, for Panem's sake. He might as well be keeping his mouth shut and thinking about what new trick to pull to get tributes to meet each other.

Then it hits me: the trainers! One of them must have slipped off during lunch.

I say, "Rhea?"

She looks up, a bit surprised. She puts her spoon down and dabs at her lips with her napkin. "Yes?"

"Can you find out how heavy the betting is on us? The news leaked pretty fast and I'm wondering if it's because of the gambling. Um, I hear rumors back home, which is how I know."

Lyme seems surprised that I know about it, but Brutus is smiling. Rhea chuckles and says, "Dear, don't worry about _that_. The news channels are _full _of that stuff – at least about the legal casinos that open up when the Games start. It's the _other _kind I'd be worried about if you were thinking of getting involved in all that."

Confused, I say, "But we're not allowed to bet anyway, are we?"

"No, but it's good to follow along with the odds as well. Here, let's see." Rhea turns on the TV in the room and starts changing channels. Soon, she sees one that has the right news on it, and on the screen reads:

DISTRICT 1 – 5:1  
DISTRICT 2 – 4:1  
DISTRICT 3 – 10:1

and so on it goes. The higher the odds on the left, the less likely they think that the tributes will win. After a few more moments, the odds list shrinks to a little window next to a reporter, who's gushing about what the interviews might be like and showing past interview highlights.

Rhea remarks, "Well, I guess I can feel a _little_ better. At least everybody else besides the Gamemakers think you're adding some excitement! After all, you're edging out your allies by a bit in the odds to win, which'll get us more sponsors."

In raptures of excitement, Rhea grabs her pad and phones and moves to a corner of the room and begins doing whatever it is she does to line them up.

Feeling a bit less uneasy, I'm working on the pita-bread-stuffed-with-lamb that Adria had last night, and I'm finding out why she likes it so much, because it's _good_.

Brutus says quietly, "You're definitely stirring up excitement, but I'd say back off a bit. We heard about the fight and had to look angry, so officially, I'm telling you to behave or you'll see the Peacekeepers."

I can't help the slight shudder that goes down my spine.

"Unofficially, I'd say you've done things about right. How's the group now?"

Adria says, "Diana's oddly unconcerned. I guess she figures as long as she survives the bloodbath with us, she can worry about it later. Chevis, Sevan and Bell were asking me if I planned to murder you in your sleep, Aurelius."

I guffaw, "Seriously?"

Lyme's almost motherly as she pats my shoulder with her right hand and Adria's with her left. "Now, children, behave yourselves."

More soberly, I continue. "Peer's resigned to the conflict he thinks is there, and Augustus, I think, will stick with me. I'll try to make sure he doesn't do something stupid."

"That's good. The energies of your group will be focussed somewhat more on the possible threat you two pose. But keep in mind at least some of them will recognize the same weakness that I see: If your Pack is too divided, you won't withstand an attack from other people or muttations," points out Brutus.

I nod. "Peer and Chevis both mentioned that on the first day, or at least hinted around it."

Brutus and Lyme eye each other. "No fools," he says. She nods. "No fools."

Lyme explains. "It's clear that you two are dealing with people who have the same strategic and tactical insights as Victors do, which means you two have your work cut out for you. We can therefore assume that in the group of tributes you're dealing with – all twenty-four of them – a sizable number are skilled, motivated and are at least somewhat versatile in their repertoires.

"Therefore, that tells us what interview angles we should go with. The interviews, you have seen, often tend to be regarded as fluff or uselessness by most of our tributes. If you watch mine, you'll see I barely bothered with answers to Caesar. I wanted to get into the Arena and _win_."

Adria frowns. "But for us...?"

Lyme replies, "We want you both to actually think carefully about how to approach that interview. The job here is to keep people from being able to classify you easily. Are you two just killing machines, or is there more? Is there intelligence? Cunning? Subterfuge, even?"

Brutus says, "So far, you've shown that you two seem smart, but unstable and prone to anger. We'll redirect that focus slightly, and show off how you two can show control and poise in the right circumstances."

Rhea's just finishing up. She walks back to the table and says, "Dears, I don't have time to show you our fashionability tonight, but rest assured, tomorrow you'll know how to act like one of us! I need to run out to a late-night party over at this _exclusive _little club called The Rix. Got to talk you up some more and meet some of these people!" Rhea waves her datapad excitedly.

Brutus nods to Lyme, who tells us, "I'll coach you on interview material tonight. Brutus needs to go meet the sponsors so he can approve them right away."

It's now that I realize that Lyme is dressed in a more comfortable outfit of a T-shirt and loose pants, while Brutus has kept a more formal-looking outfit. They must have arranged this in advance. Brutus clasps Lyme's shoulder lightly before he leaves the room with Rhea.

Lyme turns to the Avox and says, "Can you get us a mirror? After that, you can go. We can serve ourselves."

The woman leaves quickly, and we're alone.

We move the chairs away from the table and into a corner of the room. Lyme says, "I'm assuming, at this point, that you still want to be coached together?"

We nod.

"Okay. Adria, stand about three meters away from the corner where I am."

Lyme begins putting Adria through a series of poses; as I look at Adria intently for the first time in a while, I can't help but notice how Lyme is having Adria stand in a way that makes her leg muscles stand out. She changed out of her training outfit into a fairly short white skirt and a sleeveless light green shirt. Her shoes look fairly normal; basically smaller versions of the black leather shoes I'm wearing.

The same thing happens when Adria's sitting down in front of Lyme. Adria's best pose comes when she crosses her legs in a way that makes the calf and thigh muscles stand out.

She's really good-looking in that outfit.

The female Avox is back with a full-height mirror. Lyme sets it up by the table, then returns to her chair in the corner.

Lyme tells Adria to try and practice those poses in front of the mirror, then calls me up.

She has me try standing casually, then ramrod straight, then other fairly relaxed poses. She finally decides on one where I have my hands loosely at my sides, but with my back straight. Lyme says, "Memorize the way you're standing, and go practice it later. Now sit in front of me and we'll see what poses work."

We soon settle on a casual but alert pose, where I'm sitting down, my back straight and my hands on my thighs, one up by my pocket and the other near my knee. It looks more normal, Lyme notes.

Adria's finished, so I go to the mirror and try to look comfortable while I stand, noticing how my hands need to look relaxed and not tense, but with my back straight my chest stands out a bit more.

When I'm seated, I see how sitting as Lyme suggested makes me look ready to talk, but not bored or uninterested.

Meanwhile, Lyme is trying out some basic questions with Adria, and she's not entirely convinced. As I sit near them, Lyme taps her chin, then says, "Okay. Let's try this, Adria. Remember what I said in the car? To show that you're not going to let anyone get in your way, you need to be like you were on the chariot. Remember? No emotion, just looking out across the people of Panem."

Adria nods.

"Okay. What you need to do is keep that mindset. You're cold, aloof, but not curt like I was. You answer fully, but you need to show that everybody you're going to fight is just a nuisance as far as you're concerned. Practice that with Aurelius."

Adria fixes me with a blank stare, prompting me to stare back. No emotion. Nothing leaks through. Right now she's my opponent, not someone who likes me.

Lyme breaks her attention by practicing questions like, "How is your family?", "Who are you coming home to if you win?", "Do you anticipate trouble from anyone else?"

At that, Adria shoots me her best "I'm going to kill you" look. It's the same wild-animal look she had in her eyes the night before, only she's not showing she's going to back down.

Lyme nods in approval. "Good! If Aurelius's face comes up on the screens – which he might – then you need to be ready to shoot that look at the screen. That's the _only _time you should show some kind of emotion."

Lyme then says, "And how do you plan to win the games?"

Adria's jaw sets as she answers, "It's very simple. Anyone who gets in my way will be getting out of my way by dying."

Lyme nods, and goes on to ask about her parents.

When Adria describes her parents, Lyme seems to muse to herself, then moves on. So far, Adria's managed to keep perfectly cool. She answers, not quite in a monotone, but in a manner that makes it clear everyone is beneath her notice. Unbidden, the image of her chariot outfit enters my mind. Attractive and deadly.

After an interminable number of questions, Lyme turns Adria loose to sit down next to her and says to me, "Okay, sit down there, Aurelius."

Lyme says, "In contrast to Adria, you're the smart killer. But you're going to show you get along better. In a way we're going to try and create the impression that the rift between you and Adria is due to a personality conflict."

After a few false starts, I hit my interview stride when Lyme says, "Good. Let your eyes show a bit more, Aurelius. You still want to be reserved, but also a bit more open while still being articulate."

"Now, do you anticipate trouble from anyone else?"

I frown at Adria, then clear my expression and blandly say, "No."

"Good. You've reacted, but not overreacted," comments Lyme.

At the question and answer about my parents where I give the same false answer as I did to Peer, Lyme blinks. "Damn. That's going to cause problems, Aurelius, but thank you for being smart about keeping the Peacekeepers secret. We'll place a confidential call to your parents and ask your father to be put on detached duty so he won't be available for an interview. Your mother will just have to wing it."

I nod and we continue. I try to keep aloof, but not unfriendly.

After many different questions, some very odd, Lyme calls a halt.

Her final words of advice to us both are, "Try to avoid seeming scripted. Caesar loves to ask questions which put people off-balance so he and the audience can laugh. When they feel relaxed they respond better to the interviews with tributes. I suggest you watch mine, again, to get an idea of how I was just this side of actively making the audience uncomfortable. Obviously, I won anyway and my mentor said we got lots of sponsors, but in the post-mortem we both agreed if I'd been more responsive I could have landed even more.

"This is my first chance to put that into practice with you two; try not to mess it up, okay? We'll practice again tomorrow after the Gamemaker evaluations. And Brutus and I will be expecting reports on how you did in those sessions."

Lyme stays behind to grab some juice, while Adria and I head back to our rooms. Before she can head back into her room, I gently grab her shoulder. "Still allies?" I ask.

She grins. "Still allies. But don't let yourself get fooled, eventually we'll see who's the best."

I smirk. "Believe me, I'm waiting for the chance."

Her eyes seem a bit wider as she steps close to me, almost touching. "Want to practice?" She lifts her eyebrows. "My room's available."

I move forward so our bodies are touching. I lean forward and whisper into her ear, "You're on."

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work. :)


	16. Chapter 16

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 16

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

I'm in Adria's room after she told me to change into my training outfit. Just to amuse myself I go in only my shorts, leaving my shirt off.

Adria's in a form-fitting tank top and shorts, and she's smiling appreciatively as I lock her door behind me. There's a clear space in the center of her room, perfect for some sparring.

"Nice chest."

_If she thinks that's going to throw me off..._

I look down at hers, lift my eyebrow, and say, "Same to you."

"Really now? Try not to get me confused with someone else, huh?" Adria's almost ready to laugh as she clenches and unclenches her fists, going through a couple of basic combat moves to test her side.

"Oh, I know the difference, believe me," I breathe as I quickly stretch, testing my side as well. Barely a twinge, but to be fair, we couldn't (and can't) hit each other as hard as we could in training or it'd be too obvious we're still breaking at least one rule.

"As long as you're keeping that in mind," barks Adria as she lunges forward, her fist darting for my stomach.

I twist to the side, grab her arm, and try to twist it behind her back, but Adria drops, snapping a kick to my calf, forcing me to let go and jump away to avoid contact.

She rolls quickly away and jumps back to her feet. Adria's nostrils are flaring as she's assessing me, trying to decide her next move. I drop to the floor, trying a sweep kick to put her off balance. Sure enough, she jumps, letting me grab her ankle in midair.

A hard kick to my hand from her other foot forces a small "Ow!" from me as I recoil back, kneeling upright on one knee as I quickly test my hand. Adria's landed upright, balancing nimbly on her feet.

I snap a quick punch toward her thigh, forcing her to dodge. This lets me snag her ankle with my other hand and this time, I quickly yank, forcing her to break her fall with her hands as I leap to my feet and aim a solid kick at her thigh.

Adria rises, her eyes stormy, her body taut in a combat stance. "That's the second time you've gotten me there. I am _so_ going to make you regret that by the end of this session."

Mockingly, I beckon her forward. "Bring it on, Adria."

Even with her slight limp, Adria's battle with me becomes like a desperate, frenzied dance as we lunge, block and parry each other's blows. Her jaw's set in grim determination to get revenge on me. I betray no emotion as my sole focus is on countering what she does and pressing my own attacks.

My first mistake comes minutes later when I lunge forward, trying to jab quickly at her ribs. Adria feints to my right, making me dodge left and putting my weight on my left foot. In doing so she rolls, pushing all of her weight against my right leg, shoving me off balance and sending me crashing to the floor.

Before I can get up, a sharp blow into my side momentarily winds me, making me cry out in pain. I recover my bearings and see that Adria's winding up for another swift kick to my side. I roll onto my back, ready to snap to my feet and keep going.

She's on fire, though, because even as I moved, Adria reacted.

There's an angry fellow tribute now stradding me, grabbing my hair and backhanding me across the face.

Adria growls, "If you think for one second you can injure me twice in the same place and mock me afterwards without paying the consequences, _think again_, Aurelius!" Her eyes are wild. I've actually injured her pride this time, and it looks like that's what can unsettle her.

My hand snaps out, grabbing hers. "That's enough. _Don't_. Hit. Me. Again," I snarl. "And let go of my hair. _Now_."

I give Adria my own "I'm going to kill you" look. I stare directly into her eyes, wary of what might happen next. If things go just a bit worse, Brutus and Lyme will find two angry tributes bleeding all over the floor by the morning. Adria's face is unreadable. Her jaw is clenched, and I can't tell what'll happen next.

When Adria won't let go of my hair, I reach up, grabbing her wrist and squeezing hard enough to force her to release it. I let go, because I don't want to continue the fight and I don't think she does either, hopefully. I also release her other hand as well so I can rub my face where she slapped me. Damn, but she's strong.

Adria's eyes are still a bit stormy, but she seems to be calming down. Her nostrils is still flaring a bit, but her breathing's steadying out, as is mine, though I hitch involuntarily when I take too deep a breath. Adria sits up, running her hand through her hair. Her butt's on my stomach.

She takes a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling. I say, "That was _different_, all right. I've never quite managed to make Tarsus that angry at me."

Adria nods. "It's just... kind of humiliating, you know? I mean, you probably kicked me in the leg on purpose, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I won't say I'm sorry about it, because you know we're taught to do whatever we can to win, but I will say if I'd known you'd react the way you did I might have done something else – I dunno, a wrestling hold or something."

Adria winces and rubs her leg again. "It's gonna cramp up if I keep kneeling like this."

I reach out, putting my hand on her thigh, rubbing her muscles. She's got really firm legs.

In a low voice, I say, "Does that help?"

Adria nods. She doesn't push my hand away and lets me keep massaging slowly. To distract her, I say, "Good fight, huh?"

Adria's grin has a bit of her earlier menace in it. "You better believe it. We are definitely having it out in the arena if we get a chance."

"Looking forward to it. Even if we both end up bleeding from half a dozen places after an hour."

Adria grimaces and moves off me. My hand falls to my side as she carefully stands up. I begin rubbing where she kicked me, and as I test my ribs and muscle I decide nothing's broken, but she hit my side stomach muscle with full force, and that will probably leave a bruise.

"My leg's still bothering me a bit. I gotta lie down. Join me on the bed, okay?" says Adria.

Adria grunts as she lies on the bed face up, after which I slowly stand up. There's a sharp pain in my side as I stretch a little bit. I carefully get onto the bed and lie face up, not wanting to move too much. She's curious about my injury, and so I let her poke and prod for a bit, which gives way to some gentle rubbing. "How's that?"

I do have to admit her hands rubbing my side feel nice. "S'okay. Helps a bit, I guess."

Her hands fall away as she sits up, rubbing her thigh.

After a while, I say, "Adria?"

She props herself up on one elbow, looking down at me. I reach up, gently pulling her face down to me by the neck. I press a gentle kiss to her lips, which results in her shifting so she's on top of me and kissing me back.

Her hands and mine end up wandering quite a few places that night. She definitely likes my chest. And I definitely like hers, too.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work.


	17. Chapter 17

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 17

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

It's 10:30 at night. Adria and I have been making out for a while, and the novelty of exploring each other's bodies has worn off a bit. Our clothes are on, or in her case, her top is back on.

At this point she's curled up against me, her hand on my chest. My right arm's around her, and I'm rubbing her back. I press a kiss to the top of her head, then ask something that's on my mind.

"Hey, Adria? Now that I've met a few people from other Districts, I'm starting to wonder if they'd think we're weird. Y'know, for fighting even though we like each other."

She shrugs. "It probably is. But they're not like us, Aurelius. How many of them can say they spend practically all their lives doing nothing but learning how to fight, how to kill? It doesn't surprise me that you and I are like this. Give me a sword, give you a flail and tell us to wipe someone out and we'll do it. But take that guy from District Three who keeps shying away from you when you walk by and who won't look me in the eye when I try to catch his gaze. Give him that television and he could probably take it apart and put it back together, but he'll be useless in a battle."

Adria sits up to look at me. "The point is, fighting is natural for us. What do you expect to do, give me flowers and chocolates and all that stuff like they have in those commercials we see during the mandatory Capitol announcements and the Hunger Games? Come _on_."

Adria lightly falls back against me, laughing a little. I'm amused, myself, at the idea of acting like Peer probably would. I say in a bad rendition of Peer's voice, "My dear, can I give you these lovely gems and chocolates and romance you because I am the mayor's son?"

Adria groans, "Oh, _please_." She thumps my chest lightly and says, "C'mon, Aurelius. You know who I'm attracted to: guys who know they can fight and can prove it. That's you."

I gently snag Adria's hand with my left hand and interlock my fingers with hers. "Good point. Speaking of Three, it's weird how he's managed to give me the slip the one or two times I've specifically gone looking for him. I'll see him, he shies away. Then I'll turn back a couple minutes later just to look everybody over and he's _gone_. He must be a regular in the bathroom."

"Huh. Well, I've heard when you're really nervous, you feel like you either want to throw up or you feel like you really have to go. So maybe he's a bit more rattled than we thought he might be. No point trying to pull him into the Pack, then."

"'Kay."

"Hey, I noticed something earlier. What's that scar on your arm from?"

"Sword fight with Tarsus. Ironic, I know, 'cause you're the sword person."

She whistles. "How'd you get it?"

"I'll demonstrate. Need to stand up."

Adria gets off me and sits up in the bed. I stand beside it and hold my right arm out across my chest. "Okay. I was like this, ready to slice down across Tarsus so he'd be forced to block it. Then I could advance and put the point at his chest."

Adria nods. "Okay. But?"

"But Tarsus was faster than I expected. He saw what I was going to do, and slashed across my arm, which made me fumble the move and drop the sword. He had his sword at my throat a second later, and I lost that round."

She frowns. "What kind of swords were you two using, anyway?"

She's fishing for information about me, so I fudge a little and say, "Don't remember exactly. Short swords, likely. Or scimitars."

I climb back onto the bed and breathe, testing my side as I lie down next to Adria. It's not too bad, but I'll be feeling it for a while. I ruefully say, "Good thing you weren't wearing shoes when you kicked me there."

"Luck is as much a factor as anything in the Games," recites Adria from one of Brutus's strategy lectures.

"Then I'll say my ribs are lucky," I joke.

Absently, I begin rubbing her leg after she hooks hers over mine and moves a bit closer. "Adria, you remember the first day we met Peer and Bell at training? You remember how she made sure Chevis and I were checking her out?"

Adria's thinking as she runs her hand down my arm. "Well, she hasn't said much to me, so she probably assumes I'm no competition. Why?"

"Well, she seems to be going for a strategy like the Victor of the 58th Games. Remember? That girl, she had two guys at each other's throats over her and I think Bell is trying to repeat that strategy. Remember, there was that picture on the news report that looked like Bell and Peer on the roof."

Adria's skeptical. "I don't think it's working. Chevis doesn't seem to be hanging around her much, and to be honest, if anything I think Sevan's been doing most of the hanging around her."

"Maybe Bell's, y'know, like me. She could like guys and girls."

Adria's hand stops and squeezes my shoulder. "Damn! I hadn't thought of that. So if Peer gets jealous..."

"Then he fights with Sevan. And it's not guaranteed he'll win. She's been trained like us. You saw how good she is with a spear. And Chevis mentioned that if he gets a trident, he's an expert at using it to kill a large fish. And large fishes aren't that different from people."

Adria points her finger at me. "First thing we need to do, then. At the Cornucopia, after we've killed the others, we need to break any of the tridents in it. They'll suspect us, but we can blame it on weapons being stepped on in the excitement."

I bite at her finger in jest, which prompts her to tap my nose before running her hand through my hair. "Okay, second thing, Aurelius. Watch my back. I'll watch yours. If the others think I might murder you in your sleep there's nothing stopping them from getting the same idea."

I look Adria in her eye, holding her gaze. "And if it's down to the two of us?"

"Then you know what you have to do. The best of District Two will come out the winner. And I promise you this: I will fight the _hardest_ I have ever fought, and if you think for a moment that I'll make it easy on you—"

"I'll be fighting my hardest too, Adria. I won't go easy on you either, you know."

Her voice takes on a slight timbre of tenderness. "I will do one thing for you, though. I will tell your parents you fought well, and give them whatever money they need."

I kiss Adria gratefully, and say, "I'll do the same for your family – if they'll accept it. I know my parents might bridle at it."

"Tell me about it. But you tell them I wanted it. Okay?"

I laugh bitterly. "It's so absurd, Adria. Here we are, in bed, and we're talking about killing each other. Brutus even warned us about forming attachments in the Games."

Adria rolls her eyes. "Look, just because he warned us doesn't mean he's a hundred percent right. I don't know about you, but I'd rather have you in my bed than that snob Peer."

"Yeah, that's true. I'd rather be with someone from Two. Listen, about Tarsus. Tell him..." I trail off, not sure what to say.

Adria softly says, "I'll tell him you thought of him."

"Thanks." I look back at the television and see that we've been talking for about twenty more minutes. I squeeze Adria's knee briefly and say, "Hey. You want me to stay here or for me to go back to my room?"

"You'd better go back." She smiles and says, "There's always tomorrow, anyway."

I get off Adria's bed and nod. "Okay. Good night."

Once I'm back in my bedroom, I muse that all I need to do now is impress the Gamemakers and a Capitol audience.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work. :)


	18. Chapter 18

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 18

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

The morning of the third day of training is mostly desultory. Some of the stronger non-Career tributes use the weights and other weapons. I focus on the mace again, trying to refine my technique learned in the lessons at the CEC. There's a training dummy I can use, and I focus on being able to smash the mace into any chosen part of its body.

After I see Peer wants to use the mace dummy, I move off that station and practice some climbing of the false rock wall. It's harder than it looks, because what looks like a sheer cliff face with no handholds _does_ actually have them when you're close-up. You just have to find them.

I'm not exactly sure how long it takes me to get up the false cliff, but I notice that the guy from Eleven is keeping pace with me, and we reach the top at about the same time.

I cursorily nod to him, but he doesn't respond. I'll try again when we get to the bottom.

Speaking of which, I need to carefully begin scaling the long path down. It's not as simple as reversing the process, because my eyes are in my head, while my feet need to find the holds to use.

Slowly, arduously, I finally end up back on the floor of the gymnasium, testing my muscles on the side where Adria kicked me. They're protesting a bit. I also rub my knees and calves, which are stiff from the constant muscle-flexing to maintain my balance as I made sure I wouldn't fall. I can now check the clock, and see that it's ten-thirty.

The guy from Eleven hops down a few seconds later and ignores me completely as he brushes his hands off and moves on to the ropes station. I decide to forget trying to talk to him. But he's definitely going to be a threat. His muscles are kind of like that Richardson guy's in the 52nd Games: they come from the kind of hard work he must do in his district, rather than training, like mine.

I catch up with Augustus, who's decided to practice his skills at starting fires. Aside from lighting Tarsus's candles using matches or, on rare occasions, a butane lighter he can sometimes get fuel for, I've never had to start a fire the "old-fashioned" way, as Augustus puts it.

He's trying to teach me how to rub a pointed stick against a larger piece of wood, but I just _can't_ seem to get the stupid thing to light up, even after fifteen minutes of this.

Meanwhile, he's proudly got a little fire going, and the trainer beams down at him as though he were a particularly bright schoolchild. Disgusted, I toss my stick down and say, "I have no idea how you manage this stuff!"

Augustus nervously says, "Hey. Um, it's not hard, I used to do this hunting. Look, you—"

I cut him off with a firm grip on his shoulder. I look him in the eye and say, "Save it. I'm just going to get more frustrated, and if I do, I'm gonna get angry. See you at lunch."

Augustus nods quickly and says, "Okay. If it's a cold arena, I'll build you guys a fire or something. You know, to be useful."

"Good idea. We gotta stick together, right?" I clap him briefly on the shoulder, then stand up and decide to try out the obstacle course, which takes up the whole of one end of the rectangular arena, aside from the rock climbing. I think Sevan and Bell had a race through it the other day. I should have practiced this course some more instead of purposely being competitive with the rest of the Pack.

The trainer, a tall, friendly man who doesn't seem much older than me, comes up to me and says, "Hi. Do you want me to time you?"

I grin and say, "Sure," while rubbing my hands. "What's a good time?"

He tilts his head, thinking. "I'd say, less than five minutes?"

I survey the course, noticing the fence I have to climb over, plus the balance beam, a net, and other such obstacles, and judge he's probably right. We had a similar course back at the CEC, but it was a bit less complicated so more of us could be run through at a time.

I nod and say, "I'm ready."

"Good! If you'll just step to this red start line here—"

I put my right toe against the line, my left foot in position to begin sprinting. I focus on where my feet have to go first: A series of round rubber tires.

My heart begins to pound as I hear, "... Set ... GO!"

I take off, quickly marching through the set of eight tires, lifting my legs quickly so I don't trip. Once I race out of the tires, I see the metal cage I've got to climb over. Leaping up, I claw my way to the top, and see that the top has a V-shaped barrier to keep people from easily crossing over. I heave myself up further, testing the wires to see if they are barbed. They're not.

With that, I quickly get myself over the V, and climb quickly down the other side. I turn around swiftly, and see that ahead of me is the balance beam. Underneath it is a net which I would have to claw myself up from to get back onto the beam. The beam itself is only as wide as one of my feet, so I quickly look for a long bar to use to help balance me.

Not seeing a balance pole, I climb the four steps, then place my right foot tentatively on the beam. It's not slippery, for which I'm thankful. Extending my arms out, I carefully walk, foot over foot, trying not to fall over.

It works until the middle of the beam. As I put my foot down, my side twitches a bit, forcing my arm down a bit. This shifts me a bit, and I overcompensate, falling towards the net. Desperately, I thrust my hand out, grabbing the beam in midair, swinging myself under it. My feet graze the net as I swing my other hand up to catch the beam, leaving me gasping as my legs flail to and fro for a few moments. I inhale and exhale deeply, catching my breath.

_Okay, time to take stock_, I think. Unfortunately, I'm facing the opposite way to where I want to go.

The easiest way is to just go hand over hand to the other end. I don't dare try to lift myself back onto the beam, as there's a good chance I'll fall back off trying to re-establish my balance.

So the first step is to _carefully_ turn myself around.

Still, it's slow, and my hands are starting to sweat with the effort of holding my weight up. But I've climbed ropes, done chin-ups, lifted myself in other ways before in training, and damned if one balance beam is going to defeat me!

I decide to help my shift around by twisting towards my left, pivoting my legs around. Swing my legs back, then _left!_

Switch my left hand to grab the beam on the same side as my right—

Keep swivelling, and _now!_

Move my right hand under, and grab the beam on the side opposite my left.

As my swivelling slows to a halt, I adjust my grip on the beam, feeling my chest heaving with the effort I just made. All of a sudden, letting go seems like a better decision.

I estimate the beam is a good ten meters. I don't know how much time I took on the first five, but I still want to get to that other end, and using the net to get to the other end instead of going back would be too much like cheating.

_Fuck it_, I think. Hand over hand it is.

I slowly get the hang of swinging myself to help let me move my hands farther down the beam, and _finally_ I'm at the other end. Sweat's starting to form on my forehead.

There's no good hand-holds to get onto the stair part, unfortunately, so it's time to yank myself up using the beam, and it's a slow and arduous process as I carefully pull myself up onto the beam so I can nudge myself off to the stairs.

By the time I can safely stand up to get down the stairs at the other end, sweat's pouring off my forehead and neck. _Looks like it's gonna be way more than five minutes_, I mentally groan.

The next obstacle is much simpler: it's just a maze of sharply-turning corners a little too high to just jump over. Once through the twisting maze, I jump one hurdle—two hurdles—done!

The trainer's at the end, and he says, "Not bad. Eight minutes. Most of that was because of that balance beam slip-up."

"I'm gonna try again," I declare.

The trainer hands me a towel as I wipe my face and quickly run it over my hair. I notice some of the other tributes are staring. Let them. I'll do even better next time.

Back at the beginning, I'm primed. Now that I know the obstacles, I'll do better.

"Go!"

I tear off, taking the tires, the cage, racing to the balance beam – only the tiniest sliver of uncertainty enters my mind as I take the beam, my knees bent a little to better balance myself – and this time, I make it!

I grunt, "_Yes!_"through clenched teeth, and this time I'm even swifter through the maze and the hurdles.

The trainer clicks his stopwatch again, grinning widely. "Excellent! Four and a half minutes. Good work. You're welcome to keep practicing, if you like."

I notice Adria's coming up to the obstacle course. She coolly says, "Bet he can't beat me. What was my score yesterday?"

The trainer frowns and says, "Well, you did about as well as this guy; four and a half minutes, as well, I think. I'll time you both if you want to try and set a best time."

I need a breather, so I say curtly, "You go first, Adria."

I watch as Adria masters the obstacles with ease, and the trainer announces at the end, "Four minutes, twenty seconds!"

At the "go", I give it my best shot, biting my tongue as I concentrate again on the balance beam, then racing through the rest of the obstacles.

The trainer looks at his watch in surprise when I rush up to him. "What is it? What was my time?" I blurt.

"Also four minutes, twenty seconds."

"Damn!" I curse. Adria smiles and saunters back to the obstacle course beginning. I eye the set of her shoulders briefly before deciding enough is enough, and going back to weights until lunch. From past strategy discussions, I know that around now on the third day will be when the Gamemakers begin calling us to do their evaluations.

I decide a quick trip through the shower and a bathroom break are a good idea before I actually get lunch; I notice quite a few of the Career Pack also decided the same thing, so I trail in behind Peer and Chevis.

Once I'm in the lunch room with a clean outfit, I notice a lot of us are eating smaller amounts than usual. Peer's a bit pensive as he lifts his water glass to drink from it, while Bell fiddles with a split end in her hair. Sevan's quietly working on a fish sandwich, while Chevis absently chews some bread from his home district.

Augustus isn't taking it well. He's bouncing his leg rhythmically as he clasps and unclasps his fingers. Diana biting her thumbnail briefly is the only sign she's a bit concerned.

I suppose to anyone else we'd look unaffected, but that's because they can't read Careers the way I've learned to. A muscle pulses in someone's jaw; preoccupation with hair; even the way Adria's eyes flick from tribute to tribute. I know my own expression is completely blank: the Success Mask.

Even so, I'm a bit nervous. What will the Gamemakers think?

Peer's just finished a small sandwich that seems to be a District One favorite – a kind of crunchy bread with a cheese paste – when a trainer enters and says, "Peer Faust?"

He swallows quickly, washes it down with some water from his cup, and goes through the door.

I only hear one muted _thump_ through the door to the gym, so presumably he focussed on something else; maybe knives or hand to hand combat?

Some minutes later—

"Bell Drossen!"

She stands and walks through the door, her back absolutely straight.

No noises come from the gym so I haven't a clue what she did.

I decide to finish the rest of my orange juice quickly before they can call me, and set the glass right in front of me.

Augustus whispers, "How can you be so calm? What if I totally screw up?"

This reminds me to look around the room quickly. The District Eleven guy is focussing on his fingernails, while Dusty Rhodes from Eight is nearly green with nervousness. So are both of the tributes from Three.

I shrug unconcernedly and say, "You won't."

Augustus mutters, "More like _you_ won't."

I should teach him a lesson, but now's not the time, because the trainer's stepping in and even as he calls out, "Aurelius Decker!" I'm out of my seat and going into the gymnasium.

Inside the gym, I go inside and see a few trainers standing by some of the stations, but I don't see any of the Gamemakers until I turn around and look at the upper level.

I see that they are all congregated now around a table laden with food, which gives them a clear view across the gym since it's just over the archway that leads into the lunch room. I remember the fat one who they interview sometimes, and I notice he's pouring himself some wine. He gazes at me briefly, then looks over at his fellow Gamemakers, who are snacking on some appetizers. An old man with a fur-lined robe – that must be the Head Gamemaker – is two seats down from the fat guy. Since none of the other Gamemakers are paying attention just at the moment the fat one waves his hand and says, "You may begin."

I shouldn't have too much trouble, then, in the fifteen or so minutes I've got.

First, I grab up a flail and quickly whip it against a target-dummy's vulnerable zones where they would be on a human – neck, ribs, and so on. I do this as quickly as I can to prove I can incapacitate someone.

Then, I grab a spear, notice the target dummy's already at the maximum distance, and toss it to land unerringly into the dunmy's heart. I follow up swiftly with two more to the head and stomach.

I ask for someone to do a quick hand-to-hand combat session with, and a trainer steps up to me. He barks, "Begin!"

After that, we exchange kicks and punches, whirling around each other, blocking each other's blows so well it becomes almost like a strange dance.

We must be very well-matched, because by the time a whistle is blown, we still haven't landed any good blows against each other. I step back and look at the Gamemakers.

The old man barks, "You have five minutes left; please be quick about it, young man."

I quickly check the room for what else I might do, and decide on some round ten-kilogram balls inside a box that seems to have been wheeled in especially for the purpose. I grab one, then quickly whirl around to release it at the right moment, sending the ball sailing across the gym to crash into the false rock-climbing cliff, chipping off a piece.

To round things out, I pick up a staff, and quickly demonstrate the same disabling skills on a target dummy as I did with my flail, then spot the boxing punching bag and punch and kick it, pretending I'm giving Peer Faust a few things to think about.

The whistle blows, ending the session. With that, the Head Gamemaker dismisses me, pointing to the exit to the elevator.

I bow quickly, then leave.

/\/\/\

Brutus and Lyme haven't returned yet. Nor has Rhea, so I decide to just stay in the hallway on the second floor and wait for Adria. I take a look at it for the first time in some detail. Soft, uniform lighting, with a few tables here and there adorned with flowers in vases, which give off pleasant smells when I lean in close to smell them.

The walls are a kind of beige color, and the carpet looks much cleaner than anything I've seen back home. They must make the Avoxes clean it every day. Or maybe they actually rip out and replace the carpets every year; the Capitol can afford to do this, I imagine.

The elevator doors open, which alerts me to Adria's presence. She looks pretty satisfied and says, "Hey. Good session?"

"Yeah."

She slips her arm around my waist as we walk back to the bedroom doors. I respond my putting my arm around her shoulders. I say, "C'mon. My room."

We disengage from each other once we're inside. I take my training tank top off, kick off my shoes, and sprawl out on the bed.

Adria kicks her own shoes off and joins me.

I say, "Okay. First, my session, I guess. Let's see, did the flail, did the spear thing, sparred in hand to hand, threw a weight across the room, did the staff and punched the boxing bag."

Adria, lying next to me, her head propped up on her hand, nods approvingly. "Mine was pretty similar. I used a few different swords, even threw one right at a dummy, then let's see – spears too, threw quite a few knives, and finished with hand-to-hand combat."

"Good. Well, all we have to do now is wait for Brutus and Lyme. I dunno if they'd like seeing us in bed in the same room, though," I point out.

"We can worry about that later. If it takes fifteen minutes max per tribute, we've still got something like five hours left."

I turn the TV on to channel zero to confirm her estimate. I snicker, "I sure don't envy District Twelve, then."

"Neither do I. Now let's kill some time," Adria says suggestively.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work! :) I also want to thank **PK9** for the suggestion of the obstacle course portion of this chapter. :)

A word about what's going on between Aurelius and Adria. Let's face it, they're teenagers, for all that they've been trained inside and out for years in District 2, and they're going to explore things about each other as well. :)


	19. Chapter 19

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 19

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

Adria says to me, "We need to get cleaned up."

I nod and we disentangle from one another to go to the bathroom.

As much as we might say we don't care what Brutus says, neither of us wants to really risk the threat of no sponsor support in the Games. After all, we like doing what we've been doing, even if where she put her hands today ended up with more than we had counted on.

We shower together, amusing ourselves by shampooing each other's hair. After we finish, we get dressed and decide to kill the remainder of our time left by trying to find Lyme's interview. Luckily, there's a couple of television channels that let you pick almost any Hunger Games and from there, pick any particular aspect of them you want to see in detail.

As Lyme warned us, she was taciturn and blunt with Caesar as he tried to draw her out for the audience.

"_So, Lyme, what's your favorite thing been about the Capitol so far?"_

_Her jaw's set, and she shrugs. Flatly, she says, "The bathrooms, I guess."_

_Caesar tries to run with that as he says, "I certainly know what you mean! One time, there was a new brand of shampoo I got to try and it nearly wrecked my hair dye!"_

_The people in the crowd begin guffawing as he mugs in exaggerated horror at the resulting effect on his hair. Lyme's just unimpressed._

The interview went like this and Caesar looked a bit relieved as he moved to the next tribute. Adria hits the remote to shut the television off and muses, "We definitely need to be less rude."

"Yeah," I reply. I don't like the idea of wasting time I could be using for training, but on the other hand, a lot of Games have been at least partly decided by which tribute could most effectively make use of his or her sponsor gifts. "Adria? Remember the lecture we got on the 55th Games?"

She nods, remembering.

In the 55th Games, for example, at one point the guy from Ten was luring the guy from Six into a trap. He'd left a trail anyone could follow; the guy from Six, not noticing the trap, was eager for another kill after catching the girl from Three unawares.

But this must have been something the guy from Ten and his mentor had worked out in advance, because the one and only thing he got as a sponsor gift was this electric stick we learned was a cattle prod. He ambushed the guy from Six and shocked the boy into unconsciousness, then killed him.

Brutus had stopped at that point and lectured us about being careful not to get overconfident, as well as watching out about sponsor gifts in general. He also reminded us that the guy from Ten made it into the final four before finally being dispatched by a much stronger District Four girl.

He also noted that the boy from Ten had been friendly with Caesar, even cracking a couple of jokes and smiling for the audience.

Any further conversation is halted by the peremptory knock on the door. It's time to work out styles and such before the Gamemaker evaluations tonight.

/\/\/\

Rhea's been bustling back and forth between my room and Adria's for the last few hours, and between her and Brutus I'm heartily sick of how to stand, how to walk, how to _speak, _even. Brutus finally has to remind her that the District Two accent isn't too different from the Capitol's to quiet her down about the way I say my "o"'s in words like "about".

I blurt, "Look, can we go to the dining room and wait for the scores now?"

Rhea and Brutus look at each other, then at me, and mutually decide to end this session. Brutus says, "There'll be more of this tomorrow anyway, so Rhea, Aurelius can refine his style then."

Rhea sniffs, "I suppose so. He's already learned a bit more about how to be like us in the Capitol."

She bustles on out, not noticing Brutus's expression changing somewhat into the one he reserves for people who say dumb things in front of him.

We meet Adria and Lyme in the dining room, then seat ourselves and have some drinks while we briefly wrap up interview techniques. Adria says, "By the way, we watched your interview, Lyme."

Lyme nods, seemingly unconcerned, but I can see her jaw muscle flex for a moment before she says blandly, "Then you know what to avoid."

Adria and I nod and focus on the television, which currently has an announcer babbling about the odds of winning. I notice that the list of odds hasn't changed much since word of the staged incident between me and Adria leaked out. This means there's definitely a leak from the trainers, not the Gamemakers, and I resolve to let Atala or someone know about it.

Soon, Jovia and the prep teams bustle in, chattering excitedly among themselves while they grab drinks and pull out their telephones to key in messages to their friends or family. To my surprise, a man shuffles in, looking ill at ease. He waves briefly to Adria, then mutters as he gets a drink, only briefly glancing up from time to time to look at the television.

_So this is the elusive Varius_, I think. He's got sandy brown hair and he's wearing a fairly typical color-clashing outfit, but beyond that I can't see the genius that Jovia's raved about so much.

Brutus queries us on our Gamemaker evaluation sessions; he and Lyme are satisfied with how we demonstrated our skills to them, so now it's just a matter of waiting—

As though my thoughts are a signal, the announcer puts his finger to his ear, then excitedly barks, "Viewers! The Gamemakers have just announced the results for the tributes going into this year's Hunger Games! Hang onto your seats, because I bet you we'll see some real upsets this time!"

The screen goes blank, then shows a close-up of Peer Faust's smirking grin during the chariot rides.

Below the image, it reads "PEER FAUST  
17 YEARS OLD  
DISTRICT ONE"

Then, as though a rubber stamp were being used, a 9 goes on top of his face with a slamming noise, and the image vibrates as though the stamp were being solidly thumped on the screen.

Bell Drossen, who's 16, gets nine as well.

Excitement shoots through me as I realize I'm next. A close-up of my face, staring woodenly forward at the President, shows up, along with

AURELIUS DECKER  
16 YEARS OLD  
DISTRICT TWO

… Ten!

Cheers go around the room and I clench my fist in triumph. Adria's picture is a still of her face from her chariot ride, showing her emotionless, pitiless gaze across all of Panem.

ADRIA ADRASTEA  
17 YEARS OLD  
DISTRICT TWO

… Ten as well!

Again, cheers explode in the room. Adria smirks in pleasure at the result.

Brutus pulls out the list of tributes he made on the train and begins making notes next to each name. The final summary is:

District Three

Callie Edwards, 13 – 4  
Ethan Cross, 18 – 5

District Four

Sevan Odell, 18 – 9  
Chevis Bannon, 15 – 8

District Five

Emily Thomas, 15 – 4  
Daniel Schreck, 12 – 2

District Six

Diana Burton, 18 – 8  
Derek Tyras, 15 – 6

District Seven

Faith Demoss, 17 – 7  
Nicholas Jackson, 18 – 7

District Eight

Serena Allen, 13 – 4  
Dusty Rhodes, 16 – 6

District Nine

Angela Palmer, 14 – 6  
Augustus Rockwell, 17 – 8

District Ten

Rachel Perry, 12 – 4  
Oriel Wilson, 14 – 4

District Eleven

Alaray Lewison, 16 – 5  
Joren Sanderson, 16 – 8

District Twelve

Cadence Willow, 13 – 4  
Azure Sage, 13 – 4

The announcer returns, but his words are just babble as we focus on the tribute list.

The prep teams, now quiet, are watching us as Brutus, Lyme, Adria and I scrutinize that list. I say, "Joren – that guy from eleven – that eight says he's gonna be a threat. He didn't talk to me even when I was near him on the rock climbing station."

Adria pipes up, saying, "But at least Augustus and Diana have decent scores, so they won't slow us down at the Bloodbath or afterwards. Most Districts don't get scores of eight outside of One, Two, and Four."

There's murmurs of acknowledgement around the room as people agree with her.

Lyme barks, "All right. That's it for tonight. We'll get some food in if you want to eat, but Aurelius and Adria, you two don't have to stay if you don't want to."

I immediately rise to say my goodbyes and leave. Adria's on my heels a few moments later. She says to me, "I don't think I could have stood another minute around people talking, talking, and _talking_."

I nod. "Yeah; between Brutus and Rhea I did enough random talking to fill an entire room with stupid phrases, like, 'Oh, your dress is charming.' Polite smile after that. Know what I mean?"

Adria rolls her eyes. "C'mon, I'll demonstrate in my room this stupid thing Rhea had me practicing."

Inside Adria's room, she sits on her chair, back totally straight, her legs crossed with her hands clasped around her knee. In almost perfect mimicry of a Capitol accent, she says, "And how was your party last night, Aurelius?" then she gives me a tiny little smile, which I've never seen before.

To be honest, the effect is somewhat seductive and I try to avoid making it obvious that I find her attractive in that pose. Trying to escape out, I say, "Well, I guess she wants you to impress the audience?"

Adria sighs and gets more comfortable. "I guess. It's just so dumb having to make that pose _just so _or she'll insist on correcting me over and over."

I shrug. "Nothing to be done about it if we want sponsors."

"Sponsors, sponsors, _sponsors_," grouses Adria. "I can see why Lyme hated her interview so much. This had better damn well be worth it, Aurelius. You know we could clean up at the Games right now, damn it." She smacks the table in frustration.

A daring idea enters my brain, and I decide to run with it before I get second thoughts. I reach up slowly to my shirt button, and undo it once I have Adria's attention.

Deliberately, carefully, I undo the remaining buttons, watching as Adria's breathing increases a little bit and her eyes follow my body when I shrug the shirt off.

I extend my hand and say, "How 'bout we do something else for the rest of the night?"

She stands up and grins widely. "I can think of a few things."

Simultaneously, we reach for each other and lock lips in a hard, passionate kiss.

We learn a few other tricks with our bodies that night before I'm finally exhausted near 11 PM; Adria rubs her jaw a bit before bidding me goodnight. I head back to my room for a quick shower before flopping on my bed to sleep.

* * *

Author Note: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work on this!


	20. Chapter 20

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 20

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

The next morning, I wake up to the door signal and grab a bathrobe just in case it's not Adria. Once I open the door, I'm part of an impromptu meeting that includes me, Adria, Brutus, Lyme, and Rhea. Rhea's beaming widely as she holds a coffee cup and says, "Lots to do today! First practice for the interviews, then we'll turn you over to your stylists, and then the main event – Caesar Flickerman!"

Lyme nods curtly. "Dress in something comfortable today, you two, and meet us for some early breakfast. We've got to get your interview angles nailed down along with your poses and whatnot."

I nod, carefully keeping my expression blank until I close the door. After that, I think, _why can we not get to the Games _already? _Sheesh. _I toss the bathrobe off and begin getting ready.

After I get ready, go to the dining room and have a quick breakfast, Rhea, Lyme and Brutus begin putting Adria and me through our paces. We sit on two chairs set on either side of the large television, facing the large dining table.

Our mentors and District escort are modelling us mainly on the District One people from old interviews, which they sometimes replay on the large screen. The stances Lyme decided on with me get put together with how I might stand and walk depending on the stage design (will we be seated in a semicircle, or in two rows? Rhea thinks Flickerman's crew will go with a semicircle, but Brutus reminds her of the 57th Games when they decided to go for two rows of seats, one row higher than the other), so being able to move past a row of people without tearing clothes or annoying them is a good idea.

Rhea, Lyme and Adria eventually settle on a sitting position where she sits like Lyme wanted (her legs crossed, but not needing to always hold her hands over her knee like some kind of statue), but Rhea gets her way on how Adria should sit so her back's very straight. It's not lost on me that this is similar to the trick Bell used to catch some attention during training.

As for me, I don't have to keep my back quite as straight when sitting, although I should look as Lyme wanted – casual but alert. The cameras will be on me off and on through the interviews, and looking distinctly bored might not endear sponsors to me.

Being able to make small talk is important, Rhea notes, because that's part of what Flickerman's interviews are all about – patter to engage the audience with the tribute. Lyme reminds us that this sort of thing goes hand in hand with her peppering us with questions as Caesar might do.

The rest of the morning is focussed on honing our interview angles, making sure we don't give exactly the same answers to the same questions posed by Caesar, and that we emphasize different things in our interviews. The basic idea that goes with all this is that we're trained to kill people, but we shouldn't be so obvious about it that we're written off as mindless brutes.

What amazes me about our mentors is that they seem to think the same thing I do about past tributes and how Adria and I need to rise above them to make our mark this year. Lyme, at one point, makes a rather unflattering remark about Rufus, the tribute who didn't keep a level head when he fought the District One girl. After hearing this, I have to hide my snicker under a sudden cough.

Brutus chimes in, saying, "This is why we're spending so much time on interview technique instead of trying to get you into the gymnasium. Physically, you two have been ready for a long time for this. But being able to handle the things you might not want to do – that's what's you've got to practice as well: self-control. Not letting other tributes bait you. Not complaining when we run through these practices. Not being—" Brutus looks at Lyme for a moment "—less than responsive during interviews. Once you get in that arena, you need to prove you've got the discipline to win. Understood?"

Adria and I nod fervently.

Lyme sticks her head out into the hallway, then leans back into the room, still holding the door open. "Prep teams are here."

Rhea grabs a nearby remote, selects channel zero, and we see that it's 11:30 in the morning. She nods and says, "Good. The interviews are going to be around seven tonight. So you've got around six hours to get prepped. I'll be in the audience!"

She grabs up all her stuff and rushes out the door, brushing past Jovia, who's just stepped in with Varius. "Hi. Sorry, can't talk!" echoes into the room.

Adria and I stand up and go to our respective stylists and prep teams, who take us back to our rooms and begin the long process of making us look good for the Capitol.

/\/\/\

The interviews are about to begin. I'm dressed in an outfit modified from the original one I wore on the train: I'm wearing dark blue pants, and a dark blue suit jacket, but matched with them is a pale blue shirt and a thin white tie. My hair's been styled the same way as I had it for the chariot rides – spiked up top, short on the sides.

The prep team made me shower _again _right after getting some "touch-up waxing" as Jovia termed it, and I feel like I'm going to be put on display. It'll be a bit better than the chariots, since I'll be dressed, but still – all those people who I don't know!

I have to stop this train of thought because I'm about to walk across City Circle to go behind the stage which has been set up for us to sit on while we wait our turn during interviews. The prep teams and stylists split off from us, as do Brutus and Lyme. With Adria following me, I go up the stairs, through a door, make my way through a dim hallway and emerge into bright lights shining down from a hundred feet up. The entire stage, even though it's now twilight, looks as though it were noon on a summer day.

The seats for the tributes have been arranged in a semicircle this year, for which I'm thankful. It means I won't have to shuffle past anyone and risk being tripped. Lyme was certain that in the 57th Games interviews, that the District Nine boy tripped the District Ten girl when she walked past him, but because they were in the upper row and so their feet were all hidden from the audience, it was unclear and appeared to be an accident. Lyme's reasoning that he did it on purpose is that the boy had a suspicious bruise on his face at the opening bell, and the Gamemakers released a large mutt near him on the first day when he survived the bloodbath. The mutt finished him off.

I'm told to sit on the far right of the stage, in the fourth seat next to Adria. The other tributes are trickling in, dressed in what their stylists and prep teams must hope will attract attention and show off what they can do. I certainly got an earful of how important this entire event was when Jovia rattled on during the prep team's manhandling of me.

Speaking of outfits, Adria's in a grey suit and skirt combination similar to what she wore on the train, but the material is shinier and glossier; her skirt's shorter, too. Her black shirt also seems a bit more molded to her body, showing the curves she's got. Her hair's been styled as it was during the chariot ride as well; it seems one aspect of the theme our mentors and stylists want to emphasize is the detachment we showed during those rides.

Adria crosses her legs and sits up straight, surveying the audience, full of people pouring into the City Circle area, finding seats and getting comfortable.

I sit up straighter as well, appearing to be calm and perceptive. Although we really shouldn't look like we talk at all, I can't resist seeing if I can make Adria blush, for I whisper into her ear, "Nice legs."

She gives me a small knowing smirk and says in a louder voice, just enough for our fellow tributes to hear, "Nice try, Decker. You should worry about _your_ outfit first, though." Her eyes show her hidden amusement at my compliment.

Peer, who's on her right, tries to hold back a snicker. Bell's smirk isn't faked, though; she honestly thinks I tried starting something with Adria on stage.

It looks like things are about to start, as the crowd begins to settle down, and people just out of the view of the cameras are gesturing at each other. Shortly after, a man begins barking, "Ten, nine, eight..."

The "three, two, one" part is silent, and a loud voice booms, "Ladies and gentlemen, let's welcome _Caesar Flickerman!_"

Amid shouts, whistles, and applause, Flickerman energetically strides onto the stage from a hidden door, waving and grinning. This year his suit's the same – midnight blue with dozens of electric lights – but his hair and face are made up differently. He's got white face makeup again, and his hair's a metallic green color. His lips and eyelids have been painted a kind of greenish color as well; overall, he looks okay this year.

His chatter about the Hunger Games, the weather, a couple of small jokes – all that goes in one ear and out the other as I try not to be nervous waiting my turn for the interview. Adria's making the smallest of adjustments to her skirt, using that opportunity to unobtrusively wipe her hands.

Bell's first up. She's got jewels all over her very form-fitting dress, and she's playing up the level of her attractiveness for the audience. She seems to never run out of things to babble about with Caesar, showing off perfect white teeth when she smiles.

Peer's surprisingly mild, not sneeringly arrogant like he's been getting when I'm around. My guess is, his mentor decided if he comes off too cocky, he could annoy people. That said, there's been people who can pull off cockiness when I've watched these Games interviews in the past – just not Peer, apparently.

The buzzer sounds, and it's Adria's turn next. I barely hear her take a deep breath before she's clicking up to Caesar in her high heels, looking every inch the sophisticated, poised District Two tribute I know she is.

"So, Adria, pleased to meet you tonight!" bellows Caesar as he grins widely.

I can see a large screen mounted on one of the buildings, and I can see Adria give a small, but unforced, smile in return before she returns to her impassive look. She says, "Likewise. It's quite impressive here tonight."

The audience seems to like her reserve. She's definitely less blunt than Lyme is, but she's not anywhere near the voluble girl Bell was.

"How does your family feel about you being here?"

Coolly, Adria says, "They want to see me come home a Victor; they were a bit concerned when I volunteered, but I think I have what it takes to win."

Caesar's eyebrows go up as he says, "Really? How do you plan to do that?"

Adria's jaw sets, her Success Mask firmly in place. She replies, "I'll make sure that anyone who's in my way gets _out_ of my way; they'll be dead before they know it."

I sneak a look to my left, and notice that Ethan, the District Three guy, is closing his eyes, wincing as though the breath just got knocked out of him. He's whispering as though he's trying to convince himself of something.

Caesar whistles as the audience cheers. "Sounds like you know what you want, then!"

Adria again lets that small smile peek through as she says, "I've always known what I wanted. I just have to prove I deserve to be a Victor."

I get a quick glance from Caesar, and I know what he's going to do. I get ready to be on camera, as he says, "That being the case, you got a ten last night, which is pretty impressive since the only other ten I saw was your district partner. How do you feel about that?"

She turns and shoots me the same poisonous look I got when we fought a couple of nights ago. There must be a camera pointing at Caesar's back because the screen intercuts between her glare and my returning steady look, not betraying anything as Adria turns back to Caesar and says, "As you can see, we've had a few discussions about that."

Caesar laughs in slight disbelief. "Discussions! Dare I say, Adria, it was more physical than verbal?"

Suddenly, my brain is signalling danger as I try to spot any Peacekeepers in the audience. If they whip Adria for an incautious response...

Luckily, Adria seems to sense this too, for her Success Mask doesn't break as she only replies, "Sorry, Caesar, but we and our mentors have it all under control."

The buzzer goes off and the audience cheers and claps while Adria resumes her seat. I breathe in and out slowly through my nose, steadying myself as I rise to be interviewed by Caesar Flickerman.

I stand, my hands by my side as I try to seem interested in what will happen, but not overeager or totally withdrawn.

Caesar grins at me, saying, "Aurelius Decker, how are you tonight?"

I smile a bit wider than Adria did, and reply, "I'm doing pretty well. It's good to be here with you tonight."

"Glad to hear it! Now, it looks like you've got a bit of possible trouble coming up with your district partner, Adria Adrastea. Can I get your thoughts on that?"

Shooting her a frown, I turn back to Caesar and say, "I think we'll just have to see when the Games start. But I _will _say that I can take care of myself." Again, I give Caesar a smile.

"Sounds like a plan. Now, a little about you. You got anyone special to come back to?"

The Capitol doesn't need to know what we do in District Two, so I soft-pedal things as I mentally apologize to Tarsus. "Not really; I mean, I've got a good friend back home and my cousin and of course, my parents. But not that special someone."

"Too bad! You look pretty handsome in that outfit tonight, I must say."

I follow up and say magnanimously, "Well, you're giving me a run for my money, Caesar." I give him a small grin, and he runs with that as he turns to the audience and boasts, "You hear that? Next thing you know he and I will be battling it out over who gets to be in _Panem Weekly_!"

The audience cracks up in laughter, and I hear a girl yell, "I love you more, Aurelius!"

This brings down the house as another round of clapping ensues, and I nod and wave in her general direction.

Caesar's got a mock depressed expression as he says, "Well, now you're stealing all my admirers, Aurelius. But let's get a couple last questions in. How do you feel about the Games?"

_Smart killer_, Lyme's voice echoes in my brain as I blank my expression, replying, "Well, I've been through training here, and I feel pretty confident that I've got what it takes to come home the Victor."

"Seems like it! You got a ten as well, as I mentioned earlier. Want to share anything about that?"

I want to be careful here, since the Gamemaker sessions are traditionally secret, and I'm in front of 22 other people (Adria knows me already) who'd love to know what my strategy would be.

"Can't say much, but I will say I've found I know my way around quite a few weapons," I say ominously. "And I'm not afraid to use them, either."

Caesar looks impressed as the buzzer sounds. "Well, thanks very much! If you'd just take your seat now, Aurelius?"

I nod curtly and return to my seat. I need to keep alert for the remaining interviews, since someone might break from their angle and let something out they shouldn't.

Still, it's going to be a long couple of hours.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work! :)


	21. Chapter 21

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 21

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

After leaving the stage, the crush of people all leaving at once and spilling out onto the City Circle means I get separated from Adria. I find myself walking alongside Dusty Rhodes, who's been decently dressed up in a medium green collared shirt with dark green pants. His tie is light green. He looks at me, then looks away. He nearly trips and falls when I tap him on the shoulder, and he gasps out, "Sorry! You startled me."

I nod in acknowledgement and say, "You weren't too bad out there. I kind of liked the joke you made about smothering your enemies with yards of cloth, actually."

It's true; for a moment I was imagining me and Adria silencing Peer that way: wrapping him up in a big pile of cloth and leaving him there. Arrogant bastard.

He blushes. "It was something I sort of came up with earlier, if Caesar asked me about it."

I shrug as we walk into the brightly lit Training Center's cavernous entrance. I catch the District 12 boy, Azure, looking at me as we wait by the elevator. I return his gaze, which makes him shuffle aside and start glancing around nervously. He pointedly goes to a different elevator so as not to be on the same one as me. There's me, Dusty, and a few other people riding up to different floors. I'll be the first off, on the second floor.

I put my hand on Dusty's shoulder, and say, "There's one chance for you to live tomorrow. You know what you need to do."

I can feel the hitch in his breath as he remembers that the Games start tomorrow, and he looks at me with fear in his eyes. I say nothing as the elevator stops on my floor and I walk down the hallway to rejoin Adria and my mentors in the dining room. An Avox gestures to the food in the corner, and I decide to get a glass of orange juice.

Rhea's ecstatic. She and Brutus are trying to negotiate the rush of sponsors calling or sending messages, deciding who to approve and who to decline. Terus and Olivia are jabbering in front of the television, which is showing highlights of the interviews. The room begins to settle down as we watch Adria's interview. The prep teams explode in gasps as they get a good close-up of the look on her face when she glares at me, and Eris says, "Sweetie, I would _not_ want to get in between you two!"

Although she means if we were to get into a fight, I suddenly have to cough to avoid laughing at Eris unintentionally commenting on what we've been doing in private together.

My interview follows, and Brutus nods approvingly after seeing the part where I bantered with Caesar over outfits.

"We were watching from the audience, of course, but seeing what the media people have taken as the highlights tells us how well our strategy has worked," remarks Brutus. "I say they did rather well."

Lyme smiles tightly, saying. "Good work, both of you."

I smile in response, and so does Adria. It means a lot to know every step of the way, we've been doing the right things to help ourselves compete in the Games. Lyme advises us to have a light meal before bed, so I have a couple of sandwiches and finish my orange juice before I leave the room and get ready for bed.

/\/\/\

It's past ten and I can't sleep.

I've done everything – interviews, training (or showing off during it), getting rated a ten by the Gamemakers, all that.

Now it's just a matter of time. Time for me to mentally prepare myself for the Games.

Physically, I'm set. I'm stronger than almost all the others, and I know I'm good with hand-to-hand combat as well as most bladed weapons. Adria's still better than me at swords, though. I know I'm also weak on survival techniques, but if we can hold the Cornucopia and if I have lots of sponsors, it should be okay.

But I'm still not mentally a hundred percent in the arena, focussed and fighting for my life – because my life, and my victory, really do depend on that mental focus.

I close my eyes and try to put myself on the plate, waiting for the sixty-second countdown. _I see Peer next to me, nodding at the Cornucopia. Adria's across from me, eyeing a wicked-looking sword gleaming amidst several backpacks containing supplies for the tributes._

_The gong goes off, and I rush to the mass of weapons near the horn's mouth, snatching up a flail. I try to imagine the hard_ thwack_ the flail makes as I dispatch the District Twelve girl, Cadence, with ease._

I open my eyes and sigh. No matter how many times I look at the tributes and know, in my head, that I can kill them, imagining myself actually doing it seems to bring me up short.

I wonder if Adria's thinking what I'm thinking about the Games. On impulse, I get up, leave my room, and signal at her door.

She's in a nightgown, but alert and awake. Upon seeing me she says, "Thinking about tomorrow, huh?"

"Yeah. Seeing it on television's one thing. Doing it… totally different."

She nods slowly, and quietly says, "I wonder if Lyme felt like this."

I scoff, "I can't imagine Lyme or Brutus felt this unprepared." Disgustedly, I say, "What a Career I make. Worrying about the Games like this."

Adria rolls her eyes. "Come in and sit down. You weren't back from the City Circle yet; you missed Rhea insisting on telling me about this stuff called hot chocolate, and she says it helps her sleep. I'll get us some."

As I sit at the round table near her bed, I notice Adria's kept her room as sparse as mine. No personal items, no reminders of home, except for the metallic wrist ID. I've got one just like it. All it has is our name and Unique Master Identification Number.

A cup of a brown liquid that looks frothier than coffee is in front of me. Cautiously, I pick up the cup and sip the liquid. I blurt, "That's … wow. It's like liquid chocolate cake!"

Adria smirks as she drags her chair to sit near me at the table. "Now you see why Rhea likes this stuff."

Her expression turns serious. "You remember what Brutus said? 'Only a stupid tribute is arrogantly unafraid.'"

I finish, "'It is the smart tribute that knows their fear, and knows how to conquer it when necessary.' Advice I should have remembered before now."

Adria takes a drink from her cup, then swallows and licks the chocolate off her lips. "Remember this, Aurelius. When we go into that arena, we _will_ prevail. You know why?"

"Because we're faster, better and stronger." Remembering my strengths makes me feel more sure of myself. I take another bigger sip of the hot chocolate, smiling as I feel it go down smoothly.

Adria suddenly looks at me intently and says, "I like your smile, you know." She blushes a bit and says, "You look good when you do that."

I chuckle, remembering. "I could say the same to you. Remember when we were in the train? You had this grin on your face that made you look good, too."

We look at each other, and it's like an electrical connection. I whisper, "Your offer on the train still open?"

Adria takes my hand and says, "Come on."

We stand up and Adria grabs the back of my neck, kissing me harshly and firmly as I pull her to me in return, my right hand running down her back and my left moving down her neck to her chest.

It isn't long before we're in her bed, with her underneath me.

/\/\/\

Adria's looking at me with a satisfied expression. "For a first-timer with a girl, you were pretty good."

We're under the covers, on our sides facing each other. I put my hand on her hip and say, "You were a good teacher."

She squeezes my shoulder gently and says, "We'd better not do this again after tonight."

"Yeah. I mean, it was nice, but in the arena—"

"We need to stay focussed." She yawns and sighs. "Well, at least you tired me out. You feeling sleepy now, too?"

"A little, yeah."

She grins. "Objective obtained."

A sudden resurgence of need arises within me, and I say, "You mind making me feel a little more tired? It's only ten-thirty."

Adria laughs. "Geez, you're like my kid brother when he got a new toy. He wouldn't quit until he was completely done." I smile at her, which seems to do the trick. "Okay, one more round. We can do some different things this time."

Even as she finishes the sentence, Adria's already on top of me, kissing me again.

/\/\/\

It's just gone past eleven-fifteen, and we've finally tired each other out for good. I snuggle up next to Adria, who sleepily mutters, "Stay with me."

As I sleep in Adria's bed, I'm heedless of what will happen in just a few more hours.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work! :)


	22. Chapter 22

**To Reach for Victory**  
Chapter 22

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

**Note to Readers: **I have finally finished making overdue technical corrections to previous chapters, as well as adding little bits and pieces here and there regarding Adria's slight previous interactions with Aurelius. You may or may not wish to re-read them.

* * *

I snap to sudden wakefulness, realizing someone's next to me on the bed and it's not Tarsus. With a mild jolt, I remember I'm not in the Games yet; I'm still in the Training Center, spooned in behind Adria. She's still breathing steadily, her body relaxed, which tells me she isn't awake yet. I take a calming breath, thankful that I didn't squeeze her or attack her by reflex. That could have caused problems.

Cautiously, I move back and sit up in bed, knowing the worst thing to do would be to startle Adria by shaking her awake.

My caution's well-founded. Tarsus and I had a couple of incidents when we first started sleeping in the same bed; one time, he woke me up by grasping my shoulder, and I reacted by grabbing his neck and nearly strangling him. He returned the favor on another day, without meaning to, when I forgot and shook him awake, only to suddenly find myself hauled off the bed and just about to be walloped in the face. We've since managed to quell each other's paranoia about being near someone when being woken up, but he's a special case. Anyone else – especially in the days to come – is going to get a knife to the throat.

I don't know if it's just because of training or because of who we are in District Two, but I do know that when you're told to constantly be on the alert in training, and that in a real Hunger Games, attacking someone else in their sleep is about the most effective thing to do if you can pull it off, you get a little paranoid. I know my parents stopped going into my room to wake me the day I started training; there's a practice drill about once every month where one person will play at being "asleep", and another person tries to sneak up on them. At the slightest sound or touch, the person who's "asleep" springs to life like a waiting tiger, rolling into an ideal defensive position and hopefully gaining enough time to clear a sleeping mind.

That word – Careers. I stop and think, considering what's going to happen in just a few hours. Brutus had said once that other District tributes called us "Careers", because it might as well _be_ a career considering the kind of training we go through. He also said that we should be proud of that, since the Capitol would never stand for just any District allowing its boys and girls to become experts at fighting.

It's because we're so loyal to the Capitol, and I think again on all the help I've gotten from Brutus, Lyme and even the flighty Rhea. We've been granted so much, and now I can prove I deserved to have received the best that Panem can give a child of the Districts.

I gently tap Adria's leg, saying, "Wake up. The Games are today."

Her eyes fly open, and she snaps awake so fast she nearly kicks me in the process, glancing wildly around the room. She's breathing harshly, but calms down as she realizes she's in the Training Center, next to me. Without a word, she sits up in bed and turns on the television; we see that it's 6:45 in the morning, and the weather's going to be sunny with clear skies, but it'll be windy as well.

Adria turns back to me and nods approvingly, then swings her legs off the bed and stands up, yawning as she does so. I sit on the edge of the bed, and reach for her hand. We intertwine our fingers, and I feel the strength in her grip as she rubs her thumb across my palm.

"Was it good, last night?" I ask.

Adria smiles and brushes her free hand through my hair. "Thanks. It was. No complaints about your performance in bed, anyway."

Before I can respond, her expression grows somber as she pulls me up so I can stand, and she puts her hands on my shoulders as I gently hold her hips. "I want to thank you for staying here last night. You saw a couple of the Games where someone uses poison darts, and it's so fast there's not a chance to do anything about it. It's like..." she trails off, frustrated.

It should be impossible. I'm worried that if I say it, it could happen, but if I don't ask now, I'll never know what she wanted to say to me. "We could die, even though we're very sure we won't, you mean?"

Adria's expression shifts just a bit. "Yeah. So if by some highly implausible chain of events I die today, at least I got to spend a good final night with you."

"Thanks," I reply, looking into her eyes. "These last few days... I never dreamed my life would be like this. It's an honor to volunteer and fight, but it was always something that felt a little unreal to me. Now, it's _real_."

Adria's a little pensive. "I didn't anticipate some of this – certainly not finding out we're both attracted to each other. Look, about what we've been doing, Aurelius... you have to keep in mind that it's probably the pressure of the Games. It would have taken a lot longer for us to get to where we are if you'd taken your eyes off Tarsus back home."

I nod and respond, "I understand. I think maybe... just maybe, if we hadn't gone here, in a couple of years I might've been the one asking you to marry me." I shrug. "You know how they are about two guys after you leave training," I point out.

"Did you two ever talk—"

"We did," I reply quickly. "Tarsus knows the score like I do and we were kinda figuring out how to still be together after training was over. But I know I like girls too, which isn't really fair to him as I've never asked if he could... y'know, do it with one. If I can't be with him I'd hope he could at least be happy with a wife and kids."

"We don't have much time. Let's shower," says Adria as she disengages from our light embrace and leads me to the bathroom.

Shortly after, as I'm busy soaping up Adria's body, I try to keep my mind off things I'd love to do with her in the shower, so I begin talking as I look into her eyes. "Adria, in the arena—"

Her expression becomes guarded. We're supposed to be unwilling allies, and she's slipping into that role. With regret, I say, "Remember, if it's you and me in the end... we fight to win."

"I will," she replies coolly.

We don't talk again as we finish soaping and shampooing each other before rinsing off. The only remaining sexual tension is when we take a final chance for a quick feel-up as the steam clears. She's definitely got a nice butt.

After we dry off and select some basic clothes for the day, I stop and look at the the table beside Adria's bed. Our wrist IDs are on it. Lyme has told us that there was no problem getting them approved as District tokens.

I bring them over to Adria, and I hold hers out. She silently extends her arm, letting me place hers around her wrist for her.

After I'm done, she takes my arm and fastens my wrist ID, then lifts my hand and kisses the back of it. I likewise kiss the back of her right hand, and say, "Guess we should go into the hallway and wait, huh?"

"Yeah." She's not letting any emotion show. I nod curtly as we step out into the hallway. Nobody's come to get us yet, apparently, since Brutus and Lyme would be having fits right about now at seeing their tributes come out of the same room this early in the morning. I shudder again as I remember Lyme's brutally frank warning about the consequences of disobedience.

"Adria?" I look at her. Earlier, I saw the one person I could trust utterly in these Games. I saw a person whose body has been as close to mine as only one other person's ever been. I saw my ally and my lover.

But now I need to see her as my eventual enemy. She knows it too, even though I can tell by the way she's standing she'd like to lean a bit into my personal space, brushing up against me.

She keeps her level gaze at me as I say, "Still allies. For now."

"For now."

"And don't forget I owe you a sparring session."

Her eyes glitter as she says, "We need a signal. Something physical or verbal."

"A name we'll call each other? Or...?"

She smirks. "Give me a shove. Or I'll shove you."

"Works for me," I say casually, reflecting her expression.

"Also, remember, back to back with me at the bloodbath. I don't trust _anyone_ else not to stab me in the back."

I nod in agreement. "Yeah. I think Peer or Bell would happily do it if they could get away with it. You see the way she tossed her hair during the interviews? Thinks she's already won."

A few seconds later, Brutus and Lyme come around the corner with Jovia and Varius in tow. I come to attention, face devoid of emotion, my hands clasped behind my straight back. "It's time?" I ask.

Brutus replies, "It's time. You're first, Aurelius, then you, Adria. I'll take you and Jovia as far as the hovercraft. Then you two are on your own, understood?"

I nod once in acknowledgement and follow them to the elevator, not looking back once.

The next time I see Adria Adrastea will be at the bloodbath.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks to **Claratrix LeChatham** and **SkyWriter9** for betaing this! :)


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